#i actually work making bread so i know the temperature in which dough will get ruined is not arbitrary

[thebittercorvus]

hatred is a whole lot like bread. she would know.

as a baker, issa knows there's few things out there that can be as fickle as making bread from scratch. the time you need to knead. the almost arbitrary temperatures the bacteria you require in order to make it work requires in order to survive just enough in order not to completely fester the dough and ruin it. how it'll mock you at times and just come out completely wrong even though you did everything the right way.

now don't misunderstand, because it is a labour of love. there's absolutely no one on earth that would subject themselves to the suffering of waiting hours upon hours for the damned thing to be ready to bake, just for it to come out of the oven fucked beyond recognition and useless on top of that, and decide you just need to try it again.

that's exactly, where it resembles hatred.

you see, following the exact same steps for something usually gives you the same results. not with bread. not in an enviroment you cannot control completely. something will always spiral just out of your control and, will remind you that you're at the mercy of gods who abandoned earth as soon as it became evident that humans were able to fend for themselves, although not particularly good at doing so. like cats in a way, but a lot less cuter and a lot more capable of commiting crimes against its own kind for completely incomprehensible reasons. that is why, in the act of repeating the same steps over and over with the hopes that this time, the fundamentally uncontrollable thing that keeps on fucking things up for you will simply disappear and will allow your bread to rise beautifully.

hatred exists in the way you'll repeatedly make the same mistakes over, and over, and over, and see how it's ruining everything, how it's fucking up this thing you initially wanted to be beautiful, and yet you blame everything but yourself.

it takes effort to bring a loaf of bread to life. in the same way, it takes effort to ruin someone beyond recognition and still look at them in the eyes and say it wasn't you.

issa takes a tray out of the over. it deflated. it got burnt. her mother hoovers just over her shoulder, asking her with raised eyebrows what went wrong this time. what did she fucked up. tells her to try again. tells her to try until she stops fucking things up.

she thinks of her sister, and how she fleed one day in the middle of the night, twisted beyond recognition, and muttering how hatred solidified like the fat in your gut until it simply became who you are. she thinks of her brother who she hasn't seen in a decade and how he hated their father so much, he ended up becoming the exact same person. she thinks of her father who hates himself so much he keeps on repeating the same mistakes over and over and over and keeps on wondering why are things still the same. why do his children hate him. why is the bread completely burnt.

she thinks of herself, ugly and chained up and hateful, deflated like a dough that didn't grow correctly because she herself simply grew up the wrong way. not her mother's fault, as she can do no wrong, not her father's fault as he simply isn't around, but her own, even though she grew up under their watch, under their rules. but, she still ended up fucked up, and then it must be because of reasons beyond their controls, instead of the repeated, measured and careful steps they took each day, every day, for over sixteen years.

"i guess we'll eat burnt bread for dinner now," she hears her mother say. "just like yesterday, and the day before."

"i am sorry though," she insists, on the verge of tears.

"sorry isn't enough, when will you learn?"

to make a good bread, you must learn many things. the correct measuring of everything, and the correct times, and temperatures, even what to do so it will still come out right when everything else goes wrong. and if it still goes wrong then you learn accountability, because otherwise you'll keep on making the same mistakes and love will turn into hatred.

she hasn't been taught accountability yet. nobody has apologized to her for all of the hatred. nobody has bothered to ask why is that she's festering and rotting with this soul eating bacteria that replaces every feeling in her body with hatred. and maybe that's why she'll keep on repeating the same mistakes over and over until somebody can sit besides her to point out exactly what's wrong. hopefully her mistakes won't be solidified like the fat in an old man's gut by then and she'll still have the chance to scoop out her faults with a net.

her mother leaves eventually, after complaining of all of the things wrong with her as if she simply was scolding a badly trained stray dog instead of the daugther she herself measured, kneaded and waited upon for years and years and years. she complains about the way she was raised, as if it wasn't her who did it.

tomorrow she'll try again. and the day after. and the day after that one too. until the day she too learns how hatred is so close to love you cannot tell the difference once you burn it.

[quahogchowda-blog]

Experiment number 550,000 million is completed... 🤣🤣🤣 With most of the rise/proof "wait time" being while I was sleeping... 💤😴 What am I trying to prove? That baking sourdough bread is NOT an EXACT science. It is not that difficult and should not require all these "rules" that people want to make about baking SOURDOUGH... I have pretty much broken every single rule there is... And done exactly what works for me... in the time frame that works for me... I don't use a scale to measure my ingredients for my bread dough... I don't use a scale to weigh the measurements of ingredients that are going to go into my starter... I don't use heating pads or other contraptions or keep my house at a higher temperature so my sourdough starter or dough can stay warm or cold... I do not use filtered water. I use water straight from the tap despite the caution that it might kill the wild yeast. I don't worry about all this exactness with bulk ferment time... cold ferment time yadda yadda yadda...

Newest experiment... Can I make a decent sourdough loaf with minimal Hands-On time... With most of the wait time being while I'm sleeping... And how will it turn out if I use the "cold baked" method... Avoiding the excessive preheat times which to me is an absolute waste of our natural resources....

Came home from work yesterday and at 3:00 p.m. fed my cold straight from the fridge starter. I didn't think I was going to have enough starter for the two loaves I plan on baking today... so I added one full cup of flour and a half a cup of warm water.... (Normally I only do a half a cup of flour and a quarter cup of water but I gave it extra because I need extra starter today...)

By 8:00 p.m. the starter had at least doubled...

To a large Rubbermaid container I added:

1 full cup starter

3.5 cups white flour

1.5 cups wheat flour

1.5 cups water

Mix quickly just to get all the flour mostly incorporated... And Let shaggy dough sit with lid on for 30 minutes. After the 30 minute wait... I added another 1/4 cup water and 2 teaspoons salt... And immediately began stretch and folds every 30 minutes at 8:30 p.m. At 10:30 p.m. I moved the dough to a glass pyrex bowl with a lid. I was going to stop my stretch and folds there but thought better of it and 30 minutes later I did one more stretch and fold.

I left the bowl on the dining room table from 11 P.M. until I woke up at 5:00 a.m.

At 5 A.M. I gently plopped the dough onto the floured counter... And gently floured and formed my dough round to get a little more tension but also trying not to deflate the dough very much...

Placed that onto a piece of parchment paper... Scored the top with one slice down the center and plopped the whole thing into my cold cast iron Dutch oven. I did not have high hopes of this rising as well as it did that's why I only did one score down the center. I wish I had taken a picture but it was definitely much smaller than any of my other ready to bake forms.

As suggested I baked using the "cold bake" method for the first time.

Put oven on 450°. And placed the cold Dutch oven into the cold... But now preheating oven... immediately.

Baked at 450° for 50 minutes.

Removed the lid... And I was surprised to see that it definitely got a good oven spring... Continued baking with lid off for another 10 minutes.

Took temperature of the loaf it was 195°.

Took the loaf out of the Dutch oven and placed directly onto my pizza stone that was already in the oven.

Baked for another 10 minutes until bread reached a temperature of 205 and was more golden brown in color.

I don't know what the inside looks like but I'm not really concerned about that. It looks and smells terrific.

And it was EASY PEASY! Barely any hands on time at all... No fuss... No stress...

Experiment was a success! Total time... From starter initial feed at 3 p.m. to completed bake @ 6:40 a.m. = 16 hours... Hands on time equals approx a measly 20 minutes... 🤣

Note: Image of the starter is actually AFTER a 2nd feeding at 8 P.M. (I forgot to move the time band)... I added another full cup of flour to my remaining starter and another half a cup of water... It more than doubled by the time I got up this morning.

[familyofpebbles]

France/Birthniversarymasyear 2021

Turns out, I had already written about Rothenburg and our whole December and forgotten that I had done that. So, here it is:

-

We made it!  A new year. We’ve managed to dodge the plague while also having an adventurous year together. It flew by, really. And of course, most importantly, BirthNiversaryMasYear was a resounding success.

We begin on your birthday, as always. You had to work, unfortunately. But I took the day off so I could work on one of your presents- an attempt to replicate your favorite meal at Chopstix, one of our regular take-out spots in North Carolina. This process turned out to take the entire afternoon and evening, but it was WORTH it. I made you angel food cake and strawberry sauce first, both of which were successes. Then I started on the largest challenge- homemade tapioca boba. I knew it would be hard, but I was not prepared for just HOW hard. The temperature and timing turned out to be VERY specific and 2 out of 3 tries I SOMEHOW made a non-Newtonian fluid out of the dough. Thankfully, despite my initial confidence, I had thought to buy some premade boba as backup. I ended up using that and now that I know how easy THAT is to get… I think it may just become a staple in our house.

Next came the Thai tea- beautiful loose leaf rich smelling goodness. And then finally, the spicy lo mien! (I forgot I was going to try to make crispy tofu too until we were done eating. Oh well.) After the boba defeat this was a much needed morale booster. And it all turned out amazing!! So satisfying to have those familiar flavors again. After dinner I gave you your slippers (multiple pairs to prevent you from stealing mine), and we played the rest of Detroit: Become Human. Not a bad birthday for having to work, I think!

Then my birthday- unfortunately you had to work this day too. But I had a nice one! Enjoyed my slowed down morning routine, did my yearly tarot reading (this year will be largely introspective and refining, and I should focus on relaxing a bit basically), and then took my yearly little portrait session. Then you got home, we did a quick outfit change, and off to Carlos and Jordan’s for a Christmas party AND little surprise birthday party for me!! Jordan got a cake and I was sung to and Carlos gave me a Yankee candle to blow out and it was all very sweet. I have such good friends.

The next morning we were off on a birthniversary surprise trip you planned for me! We went to Rothenburg Ob Der Tauber, a beautiful, romantic, walled German town all ready for Christmas. It was so cozy- we walked around and drank Gluhwein and checked out this massive Christmas village store where we got two new little ornaments for our tree (Obder the gnome and Tauber the owl, naturally). You got yourself the hat you’ve been wanting and therefore completed your transformation to a dapper older man. We walked the walls of the city- one of only a few still completely standing in Germany. We had tea and rum with cake at the coziest café, resolved to come back to get the cutest teddy bears at a certain shop, tried some schneeballs, and you even scored an actual Gutman glass! Dinner was at a fancy restaurant where we had INCREDIBLE meals (pumpkin soup, ravioli, fresh bread and cheese) and wine. We left without room for dessert (we‘ll go back just for the chocolate cake sometime). Seeing places we’ve always admired in pictures will never stop being the most thrilling experience. I still can’t believe we get to do it so often. It was a beautiful weekend my love. Thank you, thank you for putting it together.

I had to work on our actual anniversary, but it was a short shift! We went to dinner at one of our favorite Indian restaurants and went through our 36 questions. I love that tradition. I love the ease in which we answer each other and how there are changes in answers over time. I love growing together.

My gift to you was a scrapbook documenting all of our treasures- where and when we got them and their stories. We had been wanting to do that for a while so we don’t forget, and I finally did!

You got me a beautiful ivy ear cuff, a necklace with a bust of a living Medusa on the pendant which I LOVE, and on top of that you made a video for me, of our relationship through the years. I don’t want to describe it too much because I feel like that takes away from it. Maybe you can post it here. It made me cry, and still makes me cry every time I watch it. I love you so MUCH. We really made it.

My Christmas gift to you was tickets to a 20th anniversary concert of the Lord of the Rings, with Billy Boyd there and everything. It was canceled. That was a swift kick to the gut. Such a disappointment.

Since we weren’t revolving around that anymore, you planned a whole new trip for us while I was at work. You took us to France!!

And what an experience it was. We arrived in Strasbourg on Christmas Eve and headed straight to the Christmas market at the base of the giant cathedral. It’s the oldest Christmas market in France apparently, and it was beautiful. We got some Vin Chaud and the best waffles of our lives (truly), and gazed up  at the spires and marveled at where we were at. We kept on asking each other “Where are we???” as constant little ‘Pinch me’ moments.

We explored more of the town and were amazed at how every single street was fully decorated, lights shining everywhere. At one courtyard there was a massive Christmas tree, and on the hour there was a light show set to The Grand Finale (from Edward Scissorhands) that was so magical I cried a little bit. The whole night was so overwhelmingly beautiful. It was the most magical Christmas to date.

Christmas morning I opened my presents in the hotel- you got me a beautiful wildflower scarf and an adorable pin of a mouse drifting on a leaf umbrella- and we had a delicious breakfast of croissants and cheese and fruit and coffee. We also got a little history lesson from the girl at the front desk. Over the whole trip we found the stereotype of rude French people to be very untrue. Everyone was kind and some even went out of their way to be friendly! Maybe the Christmas spirit helped a bit, but we had no bad experiences with anyone.

Some stereotypes that we DID find to be delightfully true were, 1) Many people of all ages do indeed wear berets, 2) We saw quite a few people carrying around baguettes, including a small child eating one whole, 3) I heard “Ooh la la” TWICE, 4) The bread and sweets are AMAZING. I will forever crave the lemon tarts.

We went to go check out the cathedral and ended up being there as the line for Christmas mass was forming. And well, why not? If I'm gonna experience catholic anything this is probably going to be the thing to see. It was very visually impressive, and the choir was beautiful to hear. What the most interesting thing to me was how ritualistic everything was. All the chanting and specific robes and hats and the staff plus the whole body & blood of Christ thing. Made me think about how humans take comfort in patterns. What struck me most was when the whole congregation chanted together. I didn't know it was coming so it surprised me, and that many people created such a deep rumble that went right to the chest. I used to feel the same way at JW conventions when thousands of people sang together- it's the most moved I ever was. I don't know about a god but people! People unified in a belief have such power. People make things happen. -

We continued on to Mulhouse, which was to be our home base for the next few days. The windows of our Airbnb looked directly to it’s towering church, lit up purple for Christmas. We had brought with us some bread, wine, and regional specialty cheese with us from Strasbourg. The cheese turned out to smell (and kind of taste) like a fart. We are decidedly not fans of Munster.

Another day, we ventured to Colmar, which was my favorite city of the trip. If we thought Strasbourg had every street decorated, Colmar took it up a notch. Mini Christmas markets and stalls on almost every storybook street. Every narrow road was beautiful, the old houses leaning over the street and shining with decorations. We had such a good time exploring, everything picturesque and so many fun stalls and shops to look around. Eventually we stumbled upon a small café and stepped inside. It was exactly what you would picture a French café to be… small tables packed in, very busy, an old woman behind the counter bustling around making tea and coffee, art all over the walls. I had a delicious coffee, you had a limited edition French Christmas beer that was so good you made distressed noises every time you took as sip because you likely wouldn’t be able to find it again. We also had our best meal of the whole trip. Two chocolate éclairs and two incredible three cheese tarts later we blissfully floated back out the door. It’s called Au Croissant Dore. Go find it if you can!

Another score from Colmar was a gorgeous leather satchel bought from a Christmas market stall. It was heavily discounted because of a tiny spot in the leather, so now I have a new bag that will last me ages! I love it. It has lots of pockets and I feel like I’m ready for adventure with it on.

The next day was our castle day, cut short to one castle due to the rain. But it was a great one castle! After listening to so much Harry Potter in the car, it fit the Hogwarts picture in our head perfectly.

Instead of more castles, we drove through a few more lovely small French towns, just wandering (and searching for a good place to eat). We ultimately landed in Riquewihr, the most charming little one yet. We had dinner with some local wine in a small hotel next to a rather stern family, and then walked along the lantern lit streets. It felt like being transported back in time, or like walking through one of our D&D settings. You got a small square tapestry to hang on our wall. As we were leaving we ducked into a small bakery to take some macarons back to our Airbnb with us (they were delicious, except for the hazelnut, which tasted strangely like sandalwood cologne).

The next day was our last, and with a long drive ahead of us we stopped in Colmar one more time to eat at the café again, and pick up some fancy gold flake éclairs and lemon tarts for the way home. Both were, of course, the best of each we’ve ever had.

New years eve we spent with our good friends, playing a small and chaotic game of D&D, and then having a fire and counting down the seconds to the new year. We kissed as the fireworks went off and the church bells rang.

This was the most magical Christmas we’ve ever had. I cannot believe we got to spend it in France, I cannot believe how we get to do these things together. I love that we’re best friends. It’s so EASY to do these things with you. We have such good memories together, big and small. We can go on big trips together completely harmoniously, always on the same page, each others company only elevating the experience. Neither of us like to experience anything new without the other because it’s just not right! You are my partner in everything. Down to the small everyday bits.

I love when we get home after work and I’m sitting on the counter stirring whatever is on the stove, and you pour a beer and do some dishes while we catch up. I love that sometimes at bedtime we are talking and goofing around so much that we have to intentionally go back to back for us to get any sleep. I love that every night is a slumber party. I love that when I finished the video game I’d been playing for over a year we threw a Morrowind themed dinner party for ourselves to retire my character. I love that we have a record player that we can play our song on and dance in our living room together to it. I love cuddling with you and Livvy and even Margo, when she allows it. I love this life. I love you.

These years are flying. I’m trying really hard to savor every single day. It freaks me out how quickly things are going now that there’s so much joy in my life. I want to sink into every moment with you, feel it fully. As long as we’re speeding through the years together, it’s going to be alright. Look at all the stories we already have to tell!

Merry BirthNiversaryMasYear my love. As always, it was a good one.

[ayybtch]

Bread

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader, Baker!AU + Friends to Lovers

Chapter 5 of Made With Love

Word Count: 3,292

Chapter Warnings: Our two favorite idiots are so blind it’s not even funny, lots of yearning, some brief mentions of alcohol consumption towards the end

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient with me on getting this posted. School and work have been crazy, but I’m almost done for the semester so hopefully it won't be as long for the next update. Shout out to my Grandma for sending me her paprikash recipe so I would actually know what I was talking about for this chapter. We literally never speak but she did me a real solid on this one and I will be adding paprikash into my regular cooking schedule once fall hits. Full disclosure though, I literally Googled “What wine pairs with chicken paprikash” and the wines mentioned are what it gave me. Please let me know what you think! I love reading your guys’s comments, it really makes my day.

Hey, so everyone is going to be out on a mission tomorrow night except for me. Any chance I can cash in on that raincheck? There’s a Bewitched marathon happening.

You smiled at Wanda’s message, quickly typing out your response. Definitely! Would you like to join me for bread day tomorrow?

She responded almost immediately. YES!

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. She had been wanting to make bread ever since the two of you made snickerdoodles. She brought it up almost constantly, mostly as a joke to get back at you for all of the times you teased her about it.

Up to this point, Wanda refused to accept any of your attempts to say thank you for helping you out through the cupcake debacle, saying that this was the sort of thing that friends were for. It only felt right that this should be the next thing to bake as your own special way of saying thank you.

As excited as you were to spend time with her and teach her how to do this, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous at the same time. Why had Wanda decided to share her sexuality with you after all this time?

Okay, scratch that. You understood why she shared it with you when she did. The real question is what to do with the information now that you had it.

Was it just a general knowledge sort of a deal? Or was this her way of trying to say she was interested?

You groaned and put your head in your hands. This is why you hadn’t dated someone since your last relationship ended. You needed big flashing lights that screamed “I want to date you!” before you’d catch on, and even that didn’t work sometimes. If someone tried to be subtle, you were an absolute lost cause. You did your best to recall every interaction you had with Wanda that could even remotely be considered as her flirting or expressing interest.

She did smile at you a lot, even more than she smiled at Sam and Bucky who she clearly adored. She also certainly didn’t shy away from physical contact and had even initiated it several times. She had also remembered your coffee and bagel order from the one random time it came up weeks ago...

Suddenly, everything started to add up. All of those glances that had left your heart racing, all of those little touches...maybe Wanda was interested in you?

Your heart felt ready to burst out of your chest with joy.

Wanda didn’t arrive at the bakery until almost noon. The majority of the bread had been baked already; the only bread left to make was hers.

The two of you said your hello’s and caught up a bit as she stepped in to put on her apron and began washing her hands. Once the conversation slowed, you started your rundown for today’s bake.

“Bread is actually a lot easier than it looks but there are a couple of points we’re going to need to be careful at. I’ll remind you about them as we go about but I figured it would be good to have them all in your head now.

“We’re going to be very conscientious about temperatures this entire bake in a way we haven’t really needed to before. When we’re dealing with the yeast, we need the milk around 110 to 115o so the yeast activates properly. We also want things to be warm during the rise times, which shouldn’t be too much of an issue given the ovens have been on most of the day. Once it’s in the oven, we aren’t going to mess with it at all until the last couple minutes and that’s only if we need it to brown further.”

Wanda nodded along as you spoke. “I don’t know how much of an actual problem this is because you’re here, but I always hear a lot about overworking or underworking the dough. How do I know if it’s been kneaded enough?”

“Ah, good question! If the dough keeps getting really flat and not holding its shape, it’s underworked. If the dough is overworked, it gets kind of hard and not easy to work with. The good news is that we’re kneading by hand since it’s your first time and it’s a lot less likely to happen that way than in a mixer.”

She looked unconvinced but nodded. “Okay, so where do we begin?”

The first fifteen minutes of the bake flew by quickly. The yeast mixture had been prepared and was almost ready for the rest of the ingredients to be mixed in. Wanda was completely in awe at how the mixture looked.

To be fair to her though, the yeast mixture does look very weird if you’re not used to seeing it.

Once the flour, salt, and eggs were mixed in, the true fun began. Everything was mixed just enough to be combined into a rough, sticky ball of dough before being taken out of the mixer and onto the floured counter. Wanda followed along as you sprinkled some flour on your dough and began to knead, doing her best to mirror your motions.

You watched her out of the corner of your eye as you worked the dough, waiting to see what she would do. It was hard to hold back your giggles as you watched her. She was practically just squeezing the dough in different directions. You gave her a few minutes to see if she would work things out, but eventually, you set your dough down and moved closer to her.

“Here, let me help,” you said. Your hands moved so they were on top of hers, you tried guiding her through the motions, only for things to fail miserably.

“Okay, can I try something that might be a little weird? It’s just that I’m not used to kneading at an angle like that so it’s throwing off my muscle memory.”

She nodded and you adjusted yourself so you were now standing behind her. Your arms slid around either side of her waist and your hands rested on top of hers. This time, your hands knew what they were doing and you were able to help guide her through the motion. Even after she got it, you remained standing behind her, your chin resting against her shoulder.

The feelings that washed over you as you stood there with her were hard to describe. There was nothing necessarily comfortable about the position you were in, but your whole body felt more relaxed than it had all day. At the same time though, everything felt electrifying. You hoped she couldn’t feel the way your heart was thumping against your chest.

It wasn’t until you realized Wanda had paused and turned back slightly to face you slightly that you stepped back. An apology rose up in your throat only to die as you noticed the small smile on her face. You shot a smile back at her before moving back to your spot, turning your attention back to the job at hand.

The rest of the bake went smoothly, despite Wanda’s fretting about if the bread was rising enough. It didn’t take long before you had two perfectly round loaves of bread sitting next to each other on the cooling rack. Wanda had not stopped smiling since they came out of the oven. Even though that was her usual response, this time felt different.

For the second time that day, you were left trying to describe impossible feelings. Was it her eyes that felt different? They were lit beautifully, radiating so much joy it was impossible to not feel just as excited. But how was that any different from usual? Her eyes always captivated you and left you breathless. Maybe it was the new shade of pink lipstick she had on. It was perfectly accentuating the shape of her lips, to the point you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to feel them pressed against yours.

You may not be able to pinpoint what the look was, all you knew is that you were grateful to be a part of why her smile was so big.

After she finished taking pictures of the loaves, she turned to you. “That was incredible! I had no idea bread could be that simple.”

You nodded along, unable to hold back a smile. “I told you it wasn’t too bad, there are just a couple spots you have to be sure to navigate well. And clearly -” you gestured towards the loaves, “- you did. Maybe I should start worrying about you stealing my job.”

Her laughter filled the kitchen at your teasing.

As her laugher began to die out, her focus turned back on to you. “Okay, so what time were you thinking of coming over? I’m making us dinner and want to try and have it finishing up right around the time you get there.”

You glanced over at the clock and then back to the to-do list written out on the whiteboard above your desk before answering, “I think it’ll probably be close to five if I had to guess. I still have to finish cleaning some stuff here and I promised to go help Charlie work out some menu options for that picnic thing that’s coming up.”

Wanda nodded along, “Are you going to that?”

“I’m working it, so I, unfortunately, don’t have much of a choice.”

She nodded again. “Same here, actually. All of the Avengers are required to be unless there’s some sort of alien invasion again or something…” She trailed off a moment before continuing. “I was planning on making paprikash. Is that okay with you? I don’t know if there’s anything you can’t or don’t like to eat.”

“I’ve actually never had that before so that would be wonderful! I’m pretty easy when it comes to food. The only things I don’t like are mushrooms and zucchini, but I’ll still eat them if I have to.”

Wanda gasped, “You don’t like mushrooms? How do you not like mushrooms?”

You just shrugged, “Okay, I’m actually pretty neutral on mushrooms. I’ll still eat them. I just don’t go out of my way to make them for myself. Zucchini is a firm no, though.”

She gave you a side-eye but relented. “Well, there are no mushrooms or zucchini in this, but just know I’m going to have to keep an eye on you from now on. I don’t know how we’ve made it this far into our friendship without me knowing you’re an anti-mushroom heathen.”

The two of you joked around for a few minutes longer before she left to start preparing for dinner.

Planning the menu with Charlie didn’t take very long, which you were grateful for. He already had a decent idea of what he wanted to do, so the main thing left was to figure out how much food to order to prepare it. The two of you also agreed upon what you needed to make. Most of your responsibilities centered around desserts, specifically pies, though you agreed to make some fresh rolls and soft pretzels as well.

You were thankful for the meeting to end though because it meant the remaining time you had left could be spent getting ready to go see Wanda.

‘Getting ready’ was perhaps a bit dramatic. You were just changing out of your usual work clothes into something a little cuter. It was nothing particularly fancy, but it was an outfit you felt both confident and comfortable in. You had also made sure to pack some toiletries that morning, allowing you to freshen up your deodorant and brush your teeth as well.

As you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jittery. The past few times you’ve made your way to that part of the building you’ve been nervous about the other Avengers not wanting you there. This time though, all of your nerves could be attributed entirely to Wanda. You weren’t sure what to expect of tonight, but you were determined to have a fun night filled with food and good company.

The warm smell of paprika filled the air and made your stomach grumble as soon as you stepped out of the elevator. Once you were inside, you found Wanda in the kitchen, stirring in some additional seasonings.

“This smells incredible,” you said, setting the two loaves of bread down on the counter.

Wanda beamed. “Thanks! This is my great grandmother’s recipe and is one of my favorite things to make.” As she set the spoon down, she walked towards the fridge. “I bought some wine to go along with dinner if you would like some.”

“Yes please, wine sounds amazing right now.”

“I have a chardonnay and a Barolo, which would you prefer?” she asked, turning back towards you.

You shrugged, “Whichever one you want.”

She nodded and pulled out the Barolo. It didn’t take long for the bottle to be opened and to have a glass of wine in your hand.

It wasn’t until you took your first sip that you realized Wanda had also changed. Your breathing hitched as you looked her up and down. Gone were her jeans and old T-shirts, replaced by a pair of cut-off shorts and a stylishly oversized T-shirt. If it weren’t for the fuzzy wool socks on her feet, you’d assume she was camera-ready. Hell, even with the funny socks she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.

You realized you were staring and abruptly began looking around the kitchen, trying to find something to do that would take your mind off of how hot Wanda looked. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda shook her head no. “There’s not really anything to be done, this just needs to simmer for about another five minutes and we’ll be good to go. Why don’t you go have a seat at the table and I’ll be over in just a moment with some bread slices and butter. Once this is ready I’ll bring it in as well.”

You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen and towards the table.

It wasn’t until you were seated that you realized how well the table was set. Both seats had beautiful flatware laid out, with silverware organized neatly to the side. Underneath was a crisp, pure white table cloth. What caught your attention the most though were the two lit candles sitting between your chair and hers. It wasn’t until you noticed the candles that you also noticed the music playing softly in the background.

Everything about the setup screamed ‘fancy first date’.

Before you had much of a chance to dwell on the thought, Wanda arrived with several slices of bread and a small dish of butter. You thanked her before she walked back towards the kitchen. She returned soon after with the pot of paprikash, setting it on the hot pad in the center of the table. She walked around to her seat and soon both of you had your plates filled and began to eat.

It was impossible to hold back a satisfied sigh as you took your first bite. It tasted just as delicious, if not better than it smelled. The chicken was cooked perfectly and all but melted in your mouth. The paprika added a nice rich flavor and added extra depth to the creaminess of the sauce.

“Wanda this is incredible.”

She smiled at you brightly, “If you think it’s good by itself, try dipping the bread with some butter in it.”

You did as she said and this time instead of a satisfied sigh, you let out a satisfied moan. “You are going to have to give me this recipe. This is so good I don’t even know what to say, all I want to do is keep eating.”

Wanda laughed at your enthusiasm. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you how to make it sometime. It’s about time I taught you something in the kitchen.”

Dinner was a blast. The two of you spent more of it laughing and talking than eating. The bottle of Barolo was finished before dinner was done. It didn’t take long before it was replaced by the chardonnay.

Once dinner was over, you fought Wanda to let you help clean up the kitchen. Her argument that guests shouldn’t help was shot down as you pointed out she’s technically a guest in the bakery, yet she always helps clean up after she’s been in there. She grumbled about it but quickly conceded. It didn’t take long for the kitchen to be cleaned up and even less time after that for her to drag you over to the couch.

The first-ever episode of “Bewitched” was halfway finished by the time the two of you had settled into your spots on the couch. Currently, Samantha and Darrin were at his ex-girlfriend's house for a dinner party and the girlfriend was doing everything she could to make Samantha feel inferior. Samantha, of course, wasn’t having it and was willing to fudge her promises of not using magic to level the playing field.

Wanda laughed along perfectly in time with the sitcom track. The more she laughed, the more your attention turned from being on the TV to be on her. This was the most relaxed and happy you had ever seen her. She had a small, almost imperceivable smile that grew as she became more and more emerged into the episode. Each time she laughed, you noticed how her nose would scrunch up in the cutest way and it took everything you had to not lean over and kiss her.

What you wouldn’t give to make her as happy as this show.

It wasn’t until the end credits were about to roll that you forced yourself to look back at the screen, unsure of how she’d respond if she caught you staring.

As the next episode cued up, she reached out and grabbed her glass of wine before turning to face you.“So, what do you think? Could I have been a Samantha in another life?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Definitely, though I can’t see you being willing to hide your powers just because a man wants you to.”

Wanda nearly choked on the sip of wine she had taken. “You got me there.”

She finished the glass and set it back on the table before letting out a loud yawn. “Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you beforehand that wine makes me a little sleepy.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “It also makes me incredibly cuddly…”

A rush of emotions washed over you as you processed her words. Was she asking to come cuddle with you?

The hopeful look in her eye suggested she was.

Pure, unadulterated joy swept over your body and you had to fight the urge to jump up and down from excitement. You did your best to collect yourself before you replied, hoping that the answer was indeed what you were looking for.

“Is that your way of asking if you can come snuggle?”

She smiled at you sheepishly, which made you laugh. You moved over on the couch, moving around some of the throw pillows so you could lay down.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

Wanda didn’t hesitate for a moment and soon was laying on top of you, her head resting on your chest. One of your arms wrapped loosely around her back after she settled in.

A comfortable silence fell over you as you laid there together, watching Bewitched until you fell asleep.

[shoku-and-awe]

Sweet Potato Cardamom Cinnamon Rolls from from Sourdough Every Day by Hannah Dela Cruz. To be honest, these are tasty but very messy (obviously) and gave me a lot of trouble. But my brother says they're about as good as these cinnamon rolls (which are very easy) and I think I know how to make them go smoothly next time, so recipe and tips behind the cut. Unreservedly, the cream cheese glaze is AMAZING and that I will be looking for opportunities to make it again.

But honestly, it's kind of BS for a cinnamon rolls recipe to require 4 hours of proofing immediately before baking (who, when promised hot cinnamon rolls for breakfast, can wait 4 hours?), so I just let them proof overnight, making this a 3-day recipe. You can finagle it back down to 2 days by making the dough first thing in the morning, letting it sit 4 to 6 hours, chilling it for 8 hours, then filling and rolling before bed, but that eats up a lot of your day... so I've included a couple different timing suggestions.

FILLING* 215 g (1 cup) brown sugar 40 g (⅓ cup) all-purpose flour 28 g (2 tbsp) unsalted butter, melted 3 g (1 tsp) ground cinnamon ½ tsp ground cardamom** 6 g (2 tsp) vanilla extract

CREAM CHEESE GLAZE*** 84 g (6 tbsp) cream cheese, softened**** 16 g (2 tbsp) powdered sugar 6 g (½ tbsp) vanilla extract 56 g (¼ cup) whole milk

*This is too much filling! They basically boiled in it. Maybe 3/4 the amount would be right?

**If you find at the very last second that the jar whose label says "cardamom" on top is actually completely empty, 5 g of powdered ginger is very nice.

***This is delicious, but it's too much for glaze!!! Maybe because I used whipped cream cheese(?), but I only made 3/4 the amount and it was still too much (and I love frosting). Either reserve it for later or use it for dipping/icing the individual rolls, which I think would use more than you'd use to glaze the whole pan.

TIMING For an overnight with cinnamon rolls by lunchtime (the recipe as written), do 1 - 4 on Day 1.

For an overnight with rolls first thing in the morning, start early on Day 1 and do 1 - 6. Plan your timing out because there is a lot of resting.

If you need to space out the work over 3 days to get them first thing, do 1 - 4 on Day 1, refrigerate all day Day 2, then do 5 and 6 before bed, then 7 and 8 in the morning on Day 3.

1. In a large bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, bread flour, sugar and salt. In a medium bowl, stir together the active starter, sweet potatoes and milk. Add the sweet potato mixture to the flour mixture and stir all the ingredients together with a spatula or your hands until the dough is fully incorporated.

2. Knead the dough on a lightly floured work surface for about 5 minutes. Then add the butter 14 grams (1 tablespoon) at a time, kneading each piece into the dough until it’s fully incorporated before adding another piece. When all the butter has been added, knead for an additional 10 minutes. (I used a stand mixer with a kneading hook. If using your hands, you will need A LOT of flour.)

3. Place the dough in a clean bowl, cover with plastic wrap and allow the dough to rest for 1 hour. Then turn it out onto a lightly floured work surface, knead for 5 minutes and shape it into a tight ball. (I used my hands and the dough was soft and nice but sticky.)

4. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap and allow the dough to rise at room temperature until it’s almost doubled in volume and appears bubbly, 4 to 6 hours. Deflate it by pushing down on it, then round it into a tight ball and place it in an airtight container. Refrigerate the dough overnight.

5. To make the filling, in a medium bowl, mix the brown sugar, flour, butter, cinnamon, cardamom and vanilla. Line a 9 x 13–inch (23 x 33–cm) baking pan with parchment paper. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and roll it into an 8 x 24–inch (20 x 60–cm) rectangle, with the longer side facing you. Sprinkle the filling evenly on the dough.

(With as much filling as this recipe calls for, it's very difficult to roll the dough up tight enough and to transfer the buns to the pan. Also, the filling basically turns to glue when allowed to cool, so don't skip the parchment paper and make sure to transfer any leftovers while they're still a little warm.)

6. Starting with the long side, roll the dough tightly into a log. Using a sharp knife, cut the log into 2-inch (5-cm) segments—you should end up with 12 pieces. Evenly space the buns, cut side up, in the prepared pan, cover with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel and set aside to proof for 2 to 4 hours, or until the dough has doubled in volume and appears puffy, with a marshmallowy texture.

7. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Bake the buns for 20 to 25 minutes, or until they’re golden brown.

(I needed closer to 40 minutes. Even after 30 and at 209C internal temperature, they were still raw and doughy in many places and we ended up having to put them back in with the glaze on.)

8. While they bake, mix the glaze. In a small bowl, combine the cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and milk. Remove the buns from the oven and brush with the glaze while they’re still hot. These buns are best served fresh from the oven. Store any leftovers in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

[letsfluxshitup]

companionship is stored in the fried bread [ao3]

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

-

bedrock bros but with old routines and new trauma aka tommy and techno fry bread

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

He remembered waking up from another week long nap, Phil recounting any news he'd picked up, and stumbling back towards his bedroom. He'd barely made it to the stairs before his door had flung open, bouncing off of the wall and slamming shut again.

Techno blinked at the door, before it was flung open again, this time much gentler and followed by a string of curses and taunts.

"Your fuckin door sucks, y'know that? Trying to lock me out? Stubbed my fuckin toe on it, you should get a new one, piece of garbage attacked me." Tommy hissed as he walked through the door, not hesitating to slam it behind him. The door swung back and hit him from behind, bouncing off of a spare shoe that had fallen in the way.

Tommy paused, face and shoulders scrunched up as he sucked in a deep breath, cheeks and ears flushing red in Tommy's signature lead up to I'm

-going-to-throw-a-tantrum-but-it's-not-called-a-tantrum-technoblade-I-am-not-a-child-technoblade-but-that-will-not-stop-me-from-bursting-your-eardrums-because-I've-been-inconvenienced-technoblade.

"Are you hungry?" Techno blurted out, remembering back to SMP Earth, and the foolproof method of derailing a Tommy Innit Tantrum— offering food and/or shiny things.

Tommy deflated in one long exhale, shoulders relaxing and face smoothing as he grinned at Techno.

"Actually, I am, big man! What do you have available? I'm quite hungry actually, I've been walking for a very long time, and it's very rude of you, actually, to not offer me something to eat sooner," Tommy inhaled again, catching his breath. "Did you know that, Techno? Did you know you're very rude?"

"I'm aware," Techno deadpanned, spinning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. Tommy was directly behind him, stepping on his heels more often than not.

Techno gestured towards the kitchen table, in what should have been a universally recognizable symbol of please-sit-down-you're-in-the-way, which Tommy completely ignored by climbing on to his counter to dig in his cupboard.

RaccoonInnit, echoed in his head, startling him slightly since Chat had been unusually quiet since Tommy had appeared.

Techno sighed deeply as the voices picked up slightly, humming their thoughts into his ears. Mostly protect-protect-protect, but there wasn't really anything to protect him from. If he slipped and broke his neck from falling off the counter then that was his own problem.

That train of thought earned him a near unanimous shriek of voices, demanding he make sure Tommy didn't fall.

He sighed again, ending it off with a slight growl as he moved towards Tommy, figuring he may as well entertain the voices for now.

Tommy's head whipped around at the sound of the growl, and he reeled back as Techno moved closer, a stuttering of "sorry- sorry- I didn't-" cut off as he slipped off the counter.

Techno lunged forward without thinking, catching Tommy around the shoulders and lowering him to the ground. Tommy's eyes were wide as he made eye contact with Techno, terror twisting Techno's stomach as Tommy let out a childlike little whimper.

Techno opened his mouth, to speak, to apologize, to break the silence, but was awarded with a face full of sweaty hand, Tommy smacking him away and cursing up a storm as he stumbled to his feet.

When Tommy made it out of arm's reach he paused, shifting from foot to foot, glancing between Techno and the doorway.

Techno blinked, slowly rising to his feet, hands spread out.

"Sorry," he rumbled, voices in his head screaming for him to apologize, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Tommy huffed, puffing up again, forcing his shoulders back and head held high.

"You didn't scare me, dickhead, just startled me a little." He grumbled, arms crossed as he deflated slightly.

Techno certainly wasn't going to argue semantics after nearly causing the kid to crack his head open, and instead brushed the non existent dirt off of his pants.

"So," Tommy huffed, gesturing towards the cabinet. "Where's the flour? I want to fry bread."

--

He'd managed to sparse through Tommy's nearly incoherent ramblings to pick up that Tommy was hiding from everyone else- or rather, "taking a break, because Big Men don't hide, Technoblade-".

"You needed a break from the drama so you ran to your worst enemy?" Techno deadpanned, reaching for the flour as Tommy sent him a pleading look. His hands were covered in too sticky dough, having ignored Techno's insistence that they needed to add more flour. He couldn't really knead it like that, he was more just squishing it between his fingers.

Techno would be more grossed out if he hadn't watched tommy thoroughly wash his hands. He'd hovered nearby as Tommy aggressively scrubbed before Techno had even let him near the dough, Tommy complaining the whole time about how he knew how to wash his hands and didn't need a babysitter.

Tommy huffed in response, wind whistling between his clenched teeth as he worked the flour into the dough.

"You're not my worst enemy," he snarked, something vulnerable in his eyes and the set of his jaw. "My worst enemy is in prison, currently."

"And hopefully that's where he'll stay," Techno hummed absently, watching as Tommy's shoulders relaxed minutely. "Things have been a lot quieter around here, startin' to wonder if him blaming you for all the problems on the server was just him projecting."

"Yeah, right, of course. He was being a projector and shit," Tommy let out a slightly incredulous laugh, and yeah, Techno realized it was hypocritical of them to place the blame on Dream. But, Tommy looked tired and tense and other t-words with negative meanings that Tommy didn't deserve the weight of.

Tommy rolled out the dough, flour-y hands causing puffs of flour to cling to his shirt and pants and hair. Techno huffed a laugh at the smear of flour across Tommy's cheek, and vaguely gestured towards his own face when Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow.

Tommy immediately swiped a hand across his face, smearing more flour in the process. His eyebrows furrowed, surely able to feel it, and he glowered at Techno, daring him to say something. Techno just snorted as he stood up, ignoring the coos roiling through his head, and waved Tommy away from the rolled out dough.

"We've gotta cut it up now, so we can fry it," Techno said, reaching for the knife he'd left out for this exact reason, carefully watching Tommy for a reaction.

"I know that, dickhead, you don't have to explain," Tommy snapped, head held high, as he watched Techno section up the dough.

Techno kept his eyes on the dough, carefully watching Tommy through his peripherals. In a, frankly, unearned show of trust, Tommy turned his back to him to wash his hands of the flour and sticky dough remnants.

When he was done, though, he whipped back around, watching Techno's hand on the knife. He'd apparently exceeded his reserve of unfounded-trust-for-the-person-who'd-essentially-ruined-his-life for the day.

Which, despite the voices' croons of distress at being untrusted, Techno thought was totally fair.

Tommy was nervous, and on edge, but he didn't seem to be explicitly afraid of Techno, just anxious in general, and Techno wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Blinking back to the present, realizing he'd just been staring blankly at the cut up bread, he looked to Tommy.

"Do we want to make shapes or just fry as is?" He asked, carefully skirting past Tommy to drop the knife in the sink.

Out of sight, out of mind, hopefully, Techno thought. He quickly rinsed the knife, and cupped his hand to let the water run over the flecks of flour and dough that clung to the sides of the sink.

Tommy opened his mouth to respond and moved past him at the same time, towards the table, shoulder barely brushing across Techno's back. Techno tensed slightly in surprise. Tommy froze, and from the corner of his eye Techno could see he was tensed up as well. After no reaction, Tommy carefully made his way back to the table.

Techno kept fiddling around at the sink, letting Tommy play with the dough while he pretended to be busy. He knew Tommy liked making all sorts of shapes out of the dough, but wouldn't do it if he thought he was wasting Techno's time.

Techno busied himself with finding a proper pot, then filling it with the appropriate amount of oil. He measured it out carefully, and tried not to be bothered about the deafening lack of Tommy's insistence that you didn't have to measure it, the right amount of oil was something you felt in your heart.

He remembered the first handful of times, way back in Hypixel, when Tommy had insisted on teaching him how to fry bread. Those attempts, rife with errors and Tommy shouting about not needing to do silly things like measure, were near disasters, almost always saved by Techno's insistence on following instructions.

Once Tommy's hands stilled and the oil was at the appropriate temperature, Techno consciously relaxed his shoulders and smoothed out his face before turning around, eyeing the flour that had made its home on Tommy's clothes.

"We'll have to get you an apron," he drawled, already thinking about the leftover rolls of cloth he'd made, and if he had any red dye laying around still.

Tommy blinked, hands nervously fluttering at his side, caught off guard. Techno stared blankly back at him, having an idea of what was going through the kid's head.

Technosoft, bounced around in his head and he rolled his eyes when Tommy wasn't looking.

"You're assuming this is gonna be a regular thing?" Tommy tried to snark, but it fell flat, voice coming out too vulnerable and soft. It pitched up at the end, as if asking for permission.

"Yeah," Techno grunted. Tommy's eyes snapped back to him, and narrowed slightly before he huffed.

"Yeah, ok, fine." Tommy crossed his arms in front of himself. "I get it, I get it, you can't live without the great Tommy Innit's amazing fried bread."

Techno snorted as Tommy continued on.

"No, no, I get it, truly, it's just not the same when I don't make it, right? I have the special fried bread making touch, I know, it's a special talent of mine that gets all the ladies." Tommy scooped up the tray of dough, bringing it along to the stove where Techno stood.

"What ladies?" Techno grunted, as he reached for dough to test fry. He ignored the fact that it really didn't taste the same when Tommy wasn't there to help/be a menace.

"I'll have you know, Technoblade, I get lots of ladies-" Tommy puffed up, moving to put his own bit of dough in the oil. Tommy wasn't really paying attention, head tilted up to try his best to look down on someone who was taller than him, as he continued defending himself.

His hand moved down too quickly, and the dough flopped down into the oil, splashing a considerable amount back on to Tommy's fingertips.

Tommy cried out, jerking his hand back to his chest.

There was barely a breath before Techno's hand shot out, grabbing Tommy's around the wrist and dragging his hand towards his face.

Tommy flinched violently, his other hand coming out to swing at Techno, catching him hard across the jaw. Techno let go of Tommy's wrist, shoving him away in surprise, sending him careening into the side of the kitchen counter.

They both stumbled away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen as the oil kept sizzling away. The only other sound was Tommy's heavy breaths and slight sniffles, and Techno watched as he furiously swiped at his eyes.

"Do not grab me like that, alright?" Tommy snarled, shoulders tensed as he looked ready to run or defend himself.

Techno slowly held his hands up again, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm sorry," he grunted out, "You're right. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

Tommy squinted at him, swaying back on to his heels as he relaxed his arms from where they'd curled up defensively in front of him.

"Sorry for hittin' you." Tommy grumbled slightly, crossing his arms.

"I deserved it," Techno huffed back, scratching the back of his head. "I was just worried about your fingers. Sorry again."

"I accept your apology," Tommy said finally after a tense pause, head tilted back again, a look on his face as if daring him to say something.

"I accept your apology," Techno said back, carefully. Communicating, expressing his feelings and being a "good person" was so hard sometimes. It felt like he was walking on eggshells and if he said the wrong thing everything would fall apart.

Tommy sniffed.

"How's that for communication, huh, Puffy?" He muttered to himself, uncrossing his arms and making his way back to the stove.

"Cmere, dickhead, we have more dough to fry."

Techno relaxed as he made his way back over, and they settled back into banter and teasing.

--

Techno looked down at their fried bread, an assortment of shapes and figures.

Some were more distinguishable, like the twin T's and the handful of misshapen hearts.

Before Techno could say anything, not that he would've, Tommy started to talk.

"They don't mean anything, dickhead, they're just easy to make. We're not friends or anything, alright?" Tommy puffed himself up again, and Techno absently wondered why he did that, was it subconscious? Was it for confidence or to make himself seem bigger?

Instead of acknowledging anything Tommy said, Techno lightly bumped their heads together. Techno watched as his face flickered through several different emotions, ranging from happy to sad, before he just huffed and turned back to the finished bread.

"Everyone knows the best topping is sugar and cinnamon, I don't know why you even have the honey out," Tommy snarked, aggressively sprinkling sugar on to the bread. The image was kind of ruined by how careful Tommy was being, only covering pieces that were resolutely "his".

"I like the honey," Techno responded, loading his plate with a handful of pieces of bread. He picked up a few plain pieces, unshaped and just flat bits of bread. Tommy slipped a few shaped pieces onto his plate; one that was shaped vaguely like a pig, a crown, and one of the letter T's.

On Tommy's plate was the other T, a bee, and a horribly misshapen cow, along with a majority of the wonky hearts.

Techno drizzled the honey on to his bread, eyeing the excessive amounts of sugar and cinnamon Tommy put on his.

"Y'know, you'd like the honey if you tried it," Techno hummed, ignoring the glower Tommy sent his way.

"You always say that and I never like it," Tommy hissed back, petulant and childish. A warm feeling filled his chest as Tommy settled into their old argument, that Techno knew would eventually devolve into all the other things Techno dared to like that Tommy didn't.

Techno tuned back into-

"You said the same thing about mushroom stew! And cod and broccoli. Who even likes fuckin' broccoli?" Tommy dropped down into the seat next to Techno, pulling his plate to be in front of him. Techno didn't respond, focused on lightly slathering a small piece of fried bread.

3... 2... 1...

"Well, maybe I'll try a little bit," Tommy huffed, accepting the small piece Techno held out to him with a grumbled 'thanks'. Based on his reaction after he stuffed it into his mouth he still didn't like the honey, but he didn't say anything.

They ate in silence, Tommy quickly scoffing down the bread like he was worried someone would take it. Techno ate slower, hoping Tommy would pick up on the fact that he didn't have to choke down his food. This inevitably led to Tommy finishing first, and he silently started cleaning up.

Techno quietly finished up, helping Tommy with the rest of the dishes, before going to settle in the living room. Tommy followed behind him, looking a bit lost.

Techno was hit with the abrupt realization that he didn't want this to end. He liked having Tommy around, his energy filling the house with a warmth Techno never could.

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

"I guess I should be heading out then-" Tommy started, eyes flicking to the door.

"No," Techno said, suddenly, too loud and aggressive, making Tommy flinch back.

"I mean- do you, uh, want to have some hot cocoa?" Techno fiddled with his braid, trying his best to give a reassuring smile around his tusks. Based on Tommy's expression it didn't really work, but Tommy stopped looking like he was about to sprint away.

"Sure, I guess," Tommy grinned at him, false bravado coloring his tone. "You missed Big Man Innit? I know, I know, my company is just so great, I see why you wouldn't want to miss out on it."

Tommy practically flounced over to the couch, and flopped down on it, resting his feet on the coffee table. Techno was silently grateful that Tommy was naturally overbearing, and more than willing to make up excuses for the both of them.

Techno retreated back to the kitchen, and it wasn't long before they'd settled into the living room, Techno in his arm chair and Tommy on the couch.

Tommy had loudly insisted on a blanket and pillow, saying he was cold and the couch was uncomfortable, and Techno was quietly hoping he'd just fall asleep there. Then he could avoid kicking him out or, even worse, asking him to stay.

He'd much rather Tommy just take advantage, instead of having a conversation.

Eventually, Tommy's constant stream of chatter petered out, and he slowly slumped back into the couch, falling asleep.

Techno waited until he was sure he was asleep, before carefully checking he wasn't at an awkward angle, he didn't want to deal with the kid complaining about a crick in his neck, ok? He started towards the stairs to his room before hesitating on the first step.

The voices, practically feasting on his reluctance, started loudly protesting at once.

What if a zombie breaks in?

What if the Butcher Army comes back?

What if he has a nightmare?

Techno huffed, ignoring how irrational the last two were, the Butcher Army long disbanded and it's not like Techno cared if the kid had a nightmare.

As if the universe itself was daring him otherwise, a scared whimper broke the silence. Techno looked back to the couch, where Tommy was tightly gripping the blankets around him, and his brow was furrowed. He could see from here how aggressively Tommy was clenching his jaw, and winced in sympathy.

He made his way back over, a quiet rumble in his chest. It was a soothing noise, meant for baby piglins but it worked just as well on Tommy considering how quickly his face smoothed out. Techno settled back into his armchair, accepting that he'd be up late watching over the kid and chasing his nightmares away.

He couldn't believe he'd gotten so soft.

[dickwheelie]

this is a few days late but it’s still technically Hanukkah, so! here’s a fic about Jon and Martin celebrating Hanukkah in the safehouse (shhh timelines aren’t real) because I like to project and I really like the idea of Jon being Jewish. a lot of us are having weird holidays this year, away from friends and family, so the boys having a weird one too seemed appropriate. in particular, Jon not having a menorah because I don’t have one this year either :(

the stuff in this is based on my own experiences celebrating Hanukkah growing up in a pretty secular household, so if you see anything that’s “wrong” then that’s why, lol. the prayer is accurate as far as I know though, it’s the same one my family and I sing every year.

(also this is not a good representation of how to make rugelach! if you really want a good recipe, hmu and if you ask nicely I might share my mother’s 😁)

enjoy and Happy Hanukkah!! 💙🕎✡️💙

___________

“I just feel bad,” Martin said, watching from the sofa as Jon put the challah in the oven. “You’re doing all this cooking, and I’m just sitting on the couch like a lump. And this is supposed to be your holiday.”

“Martin, for the tenth time, it’s fine. Besides, the holiday doesn’t actually start until sundown,” Jon called, cheerfully enough, from the kitchen. Jon liked cooking, Martin knew, and he didn’t really see it as a chore in the same way Martin did. Still, this was a special day for Jon (well, eight days, really), and Martin wanted to be of some use. He’d offered to do everything from peeling potatoes to rolling matzoh balls, but Jon, ever the control freak in the kitchen, had stopped him at every turn. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about not helping out as Jon bustled about, trying to make Hanukkah dinner for the both of them.

More than helping out, really, Martin just kind of . . . wanted to share this with Jon. The way Jon talked about it, it sounded as though he’d had more Hanukkahs alone than with friends or what little family he had. Martin wanted to make Jon feel like he didn’t have to be alone this year, and even if Martin was new to this, he was game to learn. Jon had already told him about the holiday and all the different foods he was making, but there was still some distance there, a disconnect, that Martin knew Jon wasn’t putting between them on purpose. It seemed to Martin more like a force of habit than anything else.

After setting the timer for the challah, Jon nodded, satisfied, and came over to join Martin on the couch. He slouched against him comfortably, and Martin automatically put an arm around his shoulders. Jon had a bit of flour on his nose, and Martin gently swiped it off, which made Jon’s face wrinkle up like a disgruntled cat. Bloody adorable, Martin thought.

“I get a bit of a break before I have to start on the latkes in a few hours,” Jon said. “Got to make those right before dinner so they’re fresh.”

“Can I please help with those?” Martin said, half-joking.

“Fine,” Jon laughed, “yes, Martin, you can help with the latkes.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Is there dessert?” Martin asked, offhandedly. He hadn’t noticed Jon getting out any sugar or making anything sweet that day. “Do people eat anything sweet on Hanukkah?”

“Well, there’s gelt,” Jon says. “Chocolate coins. But the grocer’s didn’t have any. Unsurprisingly.”

Martin laughed. “Yeah. Probably not a huge priority in the Highlands.”

“People also make rugelach, sometimes.”

“Arugula?”

Jon laughed, not unkindly. “Rugelach. Different from the vegetable. Very different,” he said. “It’s a pastry. A kind of holiday cookie, I guess you could call it. Sweet dough with chocolate or cinnamon inside. It’s simple to make, but I didn’t buy the right stuff for it, and honestly I have enough cooking to do.”

“Yeah? How d’you make it?” Martin asked, innocently enough, though an idea was brewing.

As Jon explained, he waved his hands in the air, miming the process. “You just roll out some pastry dough, cover it with chocolate or cinnamon or walnuts or whatever you like, cut it into strips, and roll them up.” He thought for a moment. “They look a bit like seashells.”

“Huh,” Martin said. “Seems easy enough.” He’d never made dough before, but how hard could it be, really. The hardest part, he figured, would be actually making the things in their tiny cabin and even tinier kitchen without Jon finding out.

Soon after that, the oven timer started beeping, announcing that the bread was done. Martin took advantage of Jon busying himself in the kitchen to slip out the door, giving him some offhand excuse about wanting to get some air, to which Jon waved him off.

In the baking aisle at the grocer’s, Martin quickly realized he was out of his depth. He stared at the display of flour and sugar and baking powder and all sorts of other stuff, utterly at a loss as to what one needed to make pastry dough. He tried, once again, to Google a recipe on his phone, but once again, there was no service and no wifi.

Well, there was always pre-made, frozen dough. Not ideal, but it’d probably work in a pinch. Much faster to make, too, Martin thought as he dropped a couple cans of it into his basket. The filling, at least, he knew he’d be able to handle; he grabbed a few bags of baking chocolate and a shaker of cinnamon, and brought everything up to the checkout counter.

Martin didn’t even know which lucky stars to thank when he arrived back at the cabin to find the kitchen empty, and Jon passed out on the bed in a post-challah, pre-latke cooking nap. Martin gently closed the bedroom door and immediately set to baking.

Going by Jon’s vague descriptions, he rolled out some of the dough into a flat oval shape, but the pre-made kind wasn’t meant to be used all at once, and the end result was a sort of lumpy mass. Digging around in the cupboards, he was able to find some flour, which helped make the dough less sticky, at least. Eventually, he was able to get it flat enough to cover it with the filling, like Jon had told him. Half of the dough he covered in cinnamon, liberally shaking it out all over the dough. The other half he covered with the baking chocolate, which came in little chunks, but he figured it would melt in the oven just fine.

Next, just as Jon had described, he cut the dough into even strips, thin and rectangular, and rolled each of them up, so the filling made a little spiral shape inside. The chocolate ones were a bit chunky and awkward-looking, but, well, it was the taste that counted, wasn’t it.

Martin turned to face the oven, realizing he had no idea how long they ought to bake for, or at what temperature. He checked the instructions on the tins of pre-made dough, deciding to go by whatever they suggested. It wouldn’t do for the dough to be raw, he figured.

Soon enough, the pastries were in the oven, and Jon was still dead to the world, none the wiser. Martin felt quite satisfied as he cleaned up, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well- and stealthily-done. He’d hide them in the oven, he decided, until after dinner, and then he’d surprise Jon. Smiling, he went to join Jon in bed, curling up next to him as he slept, until he fell asleep himself.

Martin woke groggily several hours later to Jon gently shaking him awake, telling him it was time to make the latkes. He’d already got the batter done, a thick, floury mixture of potato and onion, and a pan of oil was bubbling on the stove. Jon showed Martin how to drop spoonfuls of batter into the pan, patting them down to shape them into little fist-sized “pancakes.” He let both sides brown in the oil until they were nice and crispy, before transferring them onto a paper towel-covered plate to cool. It was simple enough, and Martin was able to finish up the batch as Jon set the table, bringing out the challah and matzoh ball soup he’d made, as well as sour cream and apple sauce to dip the latkes in.

Once the latkes were done (and Martin was quite proud to say they’d come out very nicely), Jon retrieved some red wine he’d gotten in the village and poured them both a glass. Then, as Martin was getting ready to sit down, Jon glanced around sheepishly, gesturing at an empty space on the kitchen counter.

“I, ah, normally I’d have a menorah to light. But obviously I didn’t bring one when we came up. And out here, well, it’s the same as with the gelt. No real place to buy one.”

“Oh,” Martin said, heart sinking. He reached out to squeeze Jon’s hand. “That’s a shame. I’m really sorry.”

“Really, I just wish I could show you,” Jon said, shaking his head as he took his seat at the table. “It’s really lovely. You light a new candle every night, and when they’re all lit . . . I’m sure it’d look nice here, especially.” He gestured at the space in front of the darkened kitchen window.

“Yeah,” Martin agreed, wistfully. He’d seen photos of menorahs before, and he could just picture it, he and Jon gathered around, lighting candle after candle as the eight nights passed.

“Well,” Jon said, turning back to face Martin at the table, “we may not have a menorah, but I can still do the blessing.”

“Blessing?”

“Yes. You’re supposed to do it while lighting the menorah, but, well. I’m sure this will do, given the circumstances.” Jon reached his hand across the table, and Martin took it.

“Alright.” Jon cleared his throat, almost self-consciously, and then began to sing in Hebrew, a melodic, practical tune that sounded comfortable and familiar on his tongue, like a well-worn shawl. “Barukh ata Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzivanu, l’hadlik ner, shel Hanukkah.”

Martin couldn’t really sing along to the words, but he nodded along to the melody, and when Jon was done he looked up at him and smiled, and Martin beamed back. They both raised their glasses and drank.

They ate heartily, or at least Martin did, because Jon kept shoving second and third bowls of soup at him, and insisting he finish off the latkes. Not that Martin was complaining, of course; it was all delicious, and Jon did praise him for how nice the latkes had come out.

They left the dirty dishes for later (or, knowing the two of them, tomorrow morning), and after dinner they went straight for presents. Though his options were limited without online shopping or anything outside of the tiny village, Martin had managed to find an adorable little painted china Highland cow in a local antiques shop.

“I know you think they’re cute,” Martin said as Jon lifted it out of the box.

“How did you know,” Jon deadpanned, but he grinned as he brought it up to his nose and stared at its little painted snout. “I love it, Martin, thank you.”

Jon had gone the homemade route, and knitted Martin a scarf. And a pair of mittens. And an entire bloody sweater.

“Oh my god, Jon,” Martin said, staring in disbelief at the mounds of knitwear before him. “How did you find time to do all this? How did you find time to do all this without me knowing?”

Jon looked away sheepishly. “I, uh, I’m a fast knitter.”

Martin shook his head fondly. Unbelievable. But he immediately took off the sweater he’d been wearing and pulled on the one Jon had made. It fit rather well and was as cozy as it looked. “Thank you, Jon,” he said, feeling the sleeves, knowing that every loop and stitch of the fabric had been purposeful. He could practically feel the care and love Jon had put into each one of them. “I love it,” he said, leaning over to kiss Jon at the corner of his eye.

“Well,” Jon said, cheeks darkening, “Happy Holidays, then.”

“Oh,” Martin said, rising from the sofa, “I’ve actually got one more thing. Sort of a last-minute gift.”

“Hm?”

Martin went over to the oven and took out the trays of rugelach. He’d checked them earlier to see if they were cooked through, but hadn’t gotten the chance to taste one yet. “Tried my hand at a bit of dessert,” he said, selecting a couple nice-looking ones and putting them on a plate for Jon to try.

Jon had followed Martin into the kitchen, and was staring at the pastries lined up on the trays. “Oh, well, thank you,” he said, surprised, taking the plate Martin handed to him. “What are they?”

Martin cocked his head at him. “Rugelach,” he said. Wasn’t it obvious?

Jon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Ah,” he said, voice strained with positivity. “Of course. Right.”

Martin was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Gingerly, Jon took one of the rolled-up pastries, and bit into it.

Martin tried one as well. It was one of the chocolate ones, and it was . . . crunchy. Very crunchy. The chocolate, it seemed, had only partially melted in the oven, and the pastry dough itself was a bit hard to bite through. Besides that, it wasn’t very sweet, the chocolate being too dark and the dough being too salty.

He tried a cinnamon one. Again, the dough was crunchy, and the cinnamon was overpowering without any sweetness to it. Martin considered the possibility that perhaps he ought to have added sugar.

Jon, for his part, was doing his best impression of a person who was very much enjoying the pastry they were eating, honest. “Mmm,” he said, demonstratively, as he swallowed one of the cinnamon ones. “Thank you, Martin, these are . . . delicious.”

Jon was actually reaching for seconds, which Martin knew he was only doing to make him feel better, so he reached out a hand and placed it on Jon’s, stopping him short.

Jon looked up at him. Martin shook his head wordlessly. Jon cracked a smile.

“They’re not good,” Martin said, putting them back on the trays one by one.

“Martin--”

“It’s okay,” Martin said, smiling back at him, “I know. They’re rubbish. I didn’t even use a recipe, of course they were gonna turn out--”

“Well,” Jon said, stubbornly, “you tried. It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, Martin, really,” Jon said, bringing up Martin’s hand to kiss the back of it. “It was very sweet of you to put all this effort into it.”

“Next time, I’ll look up a recipe,” Martin said, bringing one of the trays over to the kitchen bin. Jon was quick to assist him.

“There’s seven nights of Hanukkah left,” Jon said, after a moment’s thought. “We can always try again. Tomorrow, we’ll get more ingredients, and I’ll show you how to do it properly. It really is easy, you just need . . . well. Sugar, for one.”

Martin laughed as he tossed the last of the batch away. “Okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“I mean it, though,” Jon said, looking at him fondly. “Thank you. For this, and for the cow, and for sharing the holiday with me. It’s . . . this has been really . . .”

Jon was gesturing in the empty air, struggling for the proper word, but Martin understood well enough. “Yeah,” he said. “And thank you, for sharing it with me.” He pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek.

“Happy Hanukkah, Jon.”

[tightwadspoonies]

The Joy of Raising (and eating) Your Very Own Yeast Child(ren)

I know I am, statistically, late to this bandwagon.

Once a mysterious realm that only seasoned bakers would dare enter, the world of baking with a home yeast starter has become much less foreign to the scores of reluctant public health enthusiasts trying to find a way to use their sudden increase in free time.

It’s also because yeast is both reasonably expensive (like $5 for a jar that lasts a while, granted, but if you make all of your own bread, it quickly becomes the expensive ingredient) and frankly when everyone is making yeasty baked goods and supply chains are disrupted due to a pesky global pandemic, you want to have a backup. Discard also makes the food you eat just a little better for you (see below), and if you’re relying on more starchy things like flour in your diet for budget reasons, why not get everything you can out of all the other ingredients?

I, like everyone else, made like three sourdough starters in the last 12 months. I then let them die because holy crap those things 1, ate way more than I expected them to, and 2, I kept ending up with this stinktastic, slowly-fermenting glob of goo (the discard) in a takeout container on my porch because otherwise my entire apartment would have smelled like it.

I know I’m not doing a great job of selling it, but I wanted to make a post that showed it really was possible to not only sustainably and economically grow and maintain your own edible bacteria-and-yeast colony in an old jam jar, but really make it a part of your family.

1- How to Make a Starter:

Before we can really get into the joys of raising a pet sourdough starter, you have to actually get your hands on one. It’s actually way, way easier than I thought:

First, you get the following:

A jar with a lid (preferably glass- my first one was a pasta sauce jar from Aldi, but anything that’s clear-ish and around a pint/500ish ml will work great)

A half cup or so of whole wheat flour (if you don’t use whole wheat flour often, it will only be a few cents if you buy it in the bulk section)

6-7 tablespoons of tap water

A clean spoon

A rubber band or dry erase marker (optional but recommended)

All-purpose white flour to feed

Second, you put the flour and water in the jar and mix until it forms a thin, sticky paste

Third, cover loosely with the lid, and mark the level of water-flour paste either by putting the rubber band around the jar or marking it with a dry-erase marker.

Fourth, wait like 24 hours for bubbles to appear. These are CO2 bubbles released as the wild yeast and bacteria that is naturally present in whole wheat flour eats the wheat starch.

Fifth, once your flour-water-yeast goo doubles in size, scoop out half of it and discard (it should be stretchy, sticky, and bubbly in texture and smell pleasantly yeasty and ferment-y), place a quarter cup of all-purpose flour and 3 tbsp of water in the jar and mix with the remaining starter. Repeat every time the mixture doubles in size.

Note: if you go too long without feeding your yeast baby, it will form a watery layer and start to stink. All you have to do to save it is get as much of the watery stuff out as possible, discard half, and feed it until the smell and texture return to normal.

Once you start having to do this multiple times per day, congrats! You have a live and active sourdough starter!

2- What to Do With All That Goo (or ”discard”):

So basically now you have a boring, hungry toddler that really likes flour and outputs a lot of gooey discard.

First, don’t think of discard as a waste! You should think of your starter as a yeast farm and the throw-away portion (the “discard”) as the product.

Using discard in recipes not only lends a deeper flavor and chewier texture to baked goods, but helps partially digest the wheat starches (making discard slightly lower in quick carbohydrates than traditional flour), acts as a prebiotic (the fiber in discard-laden baked goods is better for feeding your gut bacteria, which helps you digest things more thoroughly), decreases the amount of gluten, and the lactic acid bacteria in discard increases the amount of nutrients like folate, potassium, and magnesium that the body can absorb during digestion. Basically, it lets you get more out of the food you eat and makes baked goods (slightly) better for you!

Here’s how you can use it (remember that measurements shown below are “stirred down” discard, meaning you have to stir the bubbles out of your discard before measuring):

Bread/bagels/english muffins- replace the active dry yeast portion of the recipe with a quarter cup of discard, and let the dough rise 12 or more hours after kneading. This longer rise time is required because the wild yeasts are not quite as active (or voracious) as their cultivated cousins, and you want time for the whole thing to get nice and sour from the lactic acid bacteria.

Crackers/thin-crust pizza dough- replace half the flour in a cracker/pizza dough recipe with discard and omit yeast.

Crepes/pancakes/waffles- replace up to 3/4 of the flour in a crepe, waffle or pancake recipe with discard, and omit yeast.

Quickbreads- replace up to 3/4 of the flour in a quickbread (pumpkin, apple, zucchini, banana bread, etc...) with discard and adjust liquid to desired consistency.

Brownies- replace as much as all of the flour in your brownie recipe with discard and adjust the liquid to the desired consistency.

Granola- replace the binder (usually honey or sugar) in granola and granola bar recipes with discard, and sweeten to taste.

Pie crust- replace half the flour in your pie crust with discard, add the discard when you would normally add the water, and omit the water.

Batter for fried fish/chicken/potato wedges/veg, etc...- water down the discard with some beer or water, dip your fried things, and fry.

3- Preserving Your Starter Colony When You Have More Bread and Crackers Than You Can Comfortably Eat:

As much as you’d like to think you’ll use discard for every recipe, you might find that your creativity (or just your tolerance for discard-flavored things) gets stretched a little thin over time.

That’s okay!

Here are a few great ways to save your starter without needing to feed it every 12 hours:

Fridge it- If you just want less discard, put your whole starter colony in your fridge- the cold slows down the yeast’s digestion so you only have to feed it once per week.

Freeze it- if you have a few days that you don’t have anything to do with your discard or want to save up for a bigger recipe, portion it into greased ice cube trays, freeze it, and then pop the discard chunks out and store in a ziploc or jar. Thaw it to use in larger recipes down the line.

Dry it- spread your discard on parchment paper-lined baking trays and let it air out at room temperature for a few days, then chop it up and store in an airtight container (with some burnt flour in a little cloth envelop if you live in a humid climate).

Gift it/sell it: You’d be surprised at how many people feel the need to buy an existing starter. Feed your starter and then portion it into small jars (baby food, etc... with labels removed), then freeze the jars. Gift or sell these frozen portions by tying a little ribbon around them (feel free to name them and write the parent starter’s date of birth on the ribbon) and sending them off with a little printout of how to care for them.

[love-takes-work]

Bixbite’s Perfect Pizzas

Here’s how to make pizza from scratch--Bixbite’s way!

Includes veggie pepperoni and a fish made out of banana bread because your chef is a vegetarian

Recipe inspired by pizzas pictured in Steven Universe Future: “Guidance”!

See more SU food tutorials!

I can't chop ingredients instantaneously like Bixbite, but I know how to make a pizza.

There's one thing I will not be doing authentically; that pizza has a big old whole fish on it. I'm vegetarian so I will be including a fish made out of bread.

Pizza dough has to rise so I recommend making the pizza dough first and then making a bread fish during the rise time.

Part One: Recipe for Two Pizzas

I have taught pizza-making on this site before! I'll simply repeat my recipe for Fish Stew Pizza with a few tweaks.

Ingredients:

1 cup warm water, 110º F to 115º F / 43º C to 46º C

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon active dry yeast

¼ cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon salt

2 to 2 ½ cups flour

Get the water ready. Make sure you take the water’s temperature. If it’s not hot enough you could fail to activate the yeast, and if it’s too hot, you’ll kill it.

Pour your sugar into a bowl. Add the warm water and stir it until the sugar dissolves. Then pour in your yeast and stir it up, and leave it alone for about 10 minutes. The yeast will foam and puff up.

Combine your ¼ cup of vegetable oil with your 1 teaspoon of salt and ¾ cup of flour. Once it's mixed, add the yeast and stir until smooth.

It will be sticky. From here add another cup of flour, work that in with the fork, and begin adding more flour in increments of ¼ cup until you have a dough that is the right consistency. You are looking for handleable, non-sticky dough, but it should be very malleable and soft, without becoming crusty.

You’ll need to work that dough for 8 to 10 minutes. Knead it in the bowl until the time is up.

And then you put the bowl in a warm spot and cover it to let it rise. It should take at least 45 minutes to double, but it's fine if you leave it up to 1.5 hours.

This is where you can jump to the bread fish if you like. I will continue explaining how to get through to prepared unbaked crusts here.

Punch the dough down.

You will now divide the dough in two. This recipe makes two pizzas. In this recipe, one with be the fish and veggies pizza and one will be a pepperoni pizza as pictured with Bixbite.

Take your one ball of dough and begin to spread it out on a 12-inch pizza pan.

A really helpful tip for this dough: You should roll the dough out from the middle of the pan using the heels of your hands. Do NOT stretch the dough–it tears. Do not pinch the dough’s bubbles or pick up pieces of it to plug holes. Do not throw it in the air. Little by little, press and roll until it begins to spread out toward the edges of the pan.

You should try to leave a little border for the crust.

Normally, what follows here is pizza sauce, cheese, and toppings. So that's where we stop and move to how to make the fish!

Part Two: Bread Fish

Disclaimer: I do not recommend actually using this as a pizza topping. This is just for fun.

Folks, because it holds its shape well and is moist, we're going with BANANA BREAD for our fish!

Ingredients:

1 1/4 cups sugar

1/2 cup (1 stick) margarine or butter, softened

2 large eggs

1 3/4 cup mashed ripe bananas (4-5 medium bananas)

1/2 cup milk

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

And you'll need a fish-shaped pan! Some of these types of pans are only for jello and aren't made for the oven so be careful to properly investigate which kind of pan you have.

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350° F / 175° C. Put a little oil in your pan and spread evenly. In a large bowl, cream the sugar and butter, mixing together into a rough even mix. Add in the eggs.

Peel the bananas and press into goop with a fork or use an appliance of your choice to whip them. Get just under 2 cups--doesn't have to be an exact science.

Add bananas, milk, lemon juice, and vanilla, and beat until smooth.

Then add flour, baking soda, and salt.

Pour into the pan. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Note: don't fill the pan too full. I was able to make a half dozen banana muffins (baked at 25 minutes) in addition.

When it comes out, cool for 5 minutes in the pan on a rack. Then turn onto the rack to cool fully. It should come out easily if you greased well, but if it's still sticking, try a frosting knife to pry it out.

The fish is ready to be a topping!

Part Three: Dressing the Pizzas

Once you've got your crusts ready, you want to start with pizza sauce and cheese.

Now, Bixbite demonstrates her amazing even cutting technique on a pepperoni pizza. Which means the pepperoni pizza was cooked and prepared first. It's the easy one, so let's do that.

I put pepperoni (in my case, Yves brand vegetarian pepperoni) on the pizza, added more cheese, and topped with more pepperoni! Then I baked it at 350° F / 175° C for about half an hour.

After it came out and cooled a bit, I took a cue from Bixbite and Amethyst's evaluation of her precision cuts and used tools to measure my angles.

Lookit that 'za, brah.

Next is the more complicated one. Let's have a look at what, besides the fish, we are putting on Bixbite's pizza.

Okay! We have a cucumber (weird!), mushrooms, a red pepper, garlic, and a red onion.

I can do that!

But now it will be a bit of a journey to do what Bixbite did.

Right. So...the fish gets sliced in horizontal cuts. Easy enough.

Pepper, onion, cucumber, and mushrooms are easily sliced the way they're portrayed here. I'll do that first. (Cut out and discard center pulp from the red pepper before you use it.)

The garlic's not so simple because you can't just chop the whole thing up into bits like that straight from the bulb. (At least, you shouldn't.) Here's a mini-lesson on preparing fresh garlic:

1. Peel as much of the papery exterior off as you can

2. Pry the individual cloves apart; whack them with the side of your knife if necessary

3. Chop off the tip of each clove and press each under your knife with a couple whacks to loosen the clove skin, and peel

4. Chop garlic into slices, then cubes, then rock your knife over the pieces to mince

Okay! Add all the veggies to the pizza!

Add fish too, lol

Sorry, I'm not gonna actually bake the pizza with bread on it again. We'll have to pretend. Looks delicious after cooking with just the veggies!

And that's how you make a pizza like Bixbite! I hope you enjoyed that!

See more SU food tutorials!

[nycbento]

I've made this now several times, and though I'll probably still tweak it further, it makes an excellent bagel at home. The most impactful ingredient is high gluten flour; it won't have the same texture with all purpose flour. In the US, two brands to try are King Arthur bread flour (12.7% protein content) and Wheat Montana (labeled as all-purpose, but its 13% protein). Barley Malt Syrup is nice to have, but I have made good bagels with honey or plain sugar. If you have a pizza stone for baking, use it. I also write all my baking recipes by weight (it's so much more accurate) so use a kitchen scale. Those are the only less common items in this recipe. As with all my sourdough recipes, "sourdough" is misleading. None of them has that sour twang, I don't actually like it. You can get it by removing the small amount of commercial yeast and doing a long, warm rise rather than a cold one, but I don't know how it will affect other factors. Sourdough Bagels: **Levain** 42 g bread flour 42 g sourdough starter (active but it does not need to be freshly fed) 42 g water **Dough** 530 g bread flour (plus more when kneading) 235 g water 40 g barley malt syrup, honey or sugar 1 g active dry yeast 10 g table salt **For Boiling** 1 tablespoon barley malt syrup, honey, brown or granulated sugar (for boiling water) **DIRECTIONS** Make a levain by mixing equal parts (42g) of starter, flour and water. Set aside loosely covered for 4-12 hours depending on the warmth of the room. You should see bubbles. Once the levain is ready, in the bowl you intend to make the dough in (or a stand or dough mixer) measure the flour and water, mix. Let stand between 20 minutes to an hour to autolyze. Meanwhile, mix in together the levain, the yeast and the barley malt syrup. (You can do this in the container you rose the levain in). After the dough has autolyzed, knead the starter mixture into the flour and keep kneading. When it's incorporated, add the salt and continue to knead. You'll need a bit more flour in the kneading process, enough so that the dough is slightly dry. If I'm using a stand mixer I sprinkle it over about 3-4 minutes in. This dough will be quite hard to knead by hand. If I had to, I'd probably try it the way the Japanese knead low-hydration noodle doughs: put it in a large, sturdy Ziploc bag on a clean floor and step on it, kneading it with your feet and body weight. A bagel should be chewy, and that happens with low hydration, a high gluten flour and a lot of kneading. You want a strong dough that seems somewhat dry compared to a bread dough and with the lower hydration it should stretch but probably won't manage a windowpane test. Using a dough mixer, I set it for 25 minutes. A stand mixer will take a bit less time. Cover the bowl and let rest at room temperature 1-3 hours and then overnight in the fridge. Turn the dough out onto a clean work surface and use a bench scraper to divide into 8 equal pieces. (I weigh them - they are usually 110-120 g). Roll each piece into a ball [NOTE - this is a good point to freeze individual portions on a tray in a single layer. Once frozen, you can store the balls in a bag. To make later, defrost completely and bring to room temperature before continuing]. It does matter how you shape the bagel. It seems logical to take the ball and use your thumb to poke a hole into the middle of each piece, but that results in a flatter, more slack bagel. This method works the gluten further - roll the ball out into a snake about 40 cm long, wrap this around your palm to create a ring. FIRMLY roll the seams against the countertop (they will come apart if you do not do this thoroughly). Arrange the bagels evenly on a parchment lined baking sheet (I prefer to use a baker's linen couche) or a tea towel will work, cover with another tea towel and let rest for 30-60 minutes or until puffy. Preheat your oven to 450°F (218°) (I use a pizza stone on the bottom rack) and prepare a small pot of boiling water, at least 3" deep, with 1 tablespoon of barley malt syrup or sugar added.

(if you use a large pot, you'll need more syrup) Make sure the bagel is in water deep enough to be fully covered - it makes a difference. Boil the bagels, a few at a time, for 1-2 minutes on each side. Stir gently shortly after they go in to keep them from sticking to the pot. When done, place them back onto the parchment paper (or a rack, but that makes dents sometimes). Let the bagels cool off enough to handle them and dip or sprinkle one side of each bagel in your choice of topping, or leave plain. Place back onto baking sheet. Bake the bagels at 450°F (218°C) for 16-18 minutes, flipping once halfway, or until golden brown and internal temperature of 205°-210°F. Optional Toppings sesame seeds salt ( sprinkle on top, don't dip) poppy seeds Or Everything Bagel Seasoning Which is the following, mixed 1 tablespoons poppy seeds 1 tablespoon white sesame seeds 1 tablespoon black sesame seeds 3 tablespoon dried minced onion 2 teaspoons coarse salt You can add dried garlic, but it burns very easily.

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 4/?

-

Of course it’s been something that, at the very back of her mind, has been causing her no small amount of stress, but Lila has been doing a very good job of just completely ignoring the topic. Only, when her co-worker Nandi, a med student from South Africa, asks Lila how much longer she’ll be staying in the country, now that she’s dropped out of her degree, does it fully register with her that her student visa has expired and she’s into the last three weeks of her grace period. After that, she’ll be in the country illegally.

Lila smiles at Nandi brightly and tells her that she’s not made a decision yet and that she’s looking at a couple of options.

On her break she goes out into the alley and bums a smoke off one of the teenage busboys who seems to be working at the restaurant that’s right next to her café, even though she’s not had a cigarette in years, and contemplates what to do.

And predictably she comes up short.

So after her shift ends, she heads to the public library and finds several volumes on immigration law for research, because she doesn’t want to ask one of the librarians.

After an hour of frustratedly thumbing through the books, the only short term solution she has found is to get married to a citizen.

She’s back at square one with no idea what to do, when she leaves her books on the collection cart and heads out into the rainy evening.

By the time she walks in through the door, she’s not sure if she’s just breezed straight through panic and worry or whether she’s just too numb to feel it, but at the smell of cooking food, she immediately follows the aromas to the kitchen and for a moment gets distracted at the door by the sight of Diego gently stirring something on the stove.

Apparently sensing her arrival, Diego twists around to look at her and says, “Oh hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Lila drags her eyes up to meet his and belatedly realises that she’s unabashedly been staring at his arse in a pair of perfectly fitted jeans.

“Uh…” she says dumbly.

Somehow she’s got so used to him not being around over the last few days that coming home to someone in the flat is completely throwing her for a loop.

“I’m making gorditas,” Diego says, having turned back to stirring and making idle conversation, “d’you want some?”

When she doesn’t answer right away, still dealing with the whiplash of her day, Diego turns back around and asks, “Hey, you ok?”

Lila scrambles for an answer and, trying to avoid telling Diego that the sight of him all sexily making food has made all the thoughts in her brain combust, she accidentally lands on the other truth and blurts, “Yeah, uh, fine… just dealing with some visa troubles!”

Diego’s expression turns into one of such genuine concern that Lila instantly regrets being the cause of that.

“Ah shit! That sucks,” he says. “Anything I can help you with?”

Lila snorts loudly, “Thanks, but I doubt there’s anything you could do… short of marrying me,” she adds in a sarcastic tone.

There’s a beat where Diego looks at her with a completely blank expression and she knows it’s not the cooking that suddenly makes the temperature in the small kitchen go up a couple of notches. Then he makes a face that’s half smirk and half shy smile and something behind Lila’s ribs cracks at the sight and she hopes she never has to see it again, because she hasn’t the foggiest idea how to respond to it.

“Ha! Yeah,” Diego says then, pointing at her with his spatula and then turns back to the stove again.

“So, uh, d’you want some?” he asks, with a strained kind of casualness, not actually looking at her, and this time Lila is quicker to answer, “Yeah… yes, thanks! I’ll just go get out of my work clothes!”

Lila hurries into her room and then leans against the closed door for a moment. What the fuck is wrong with her? Only a few days ago, she was accusing Diego of being weird and now she’s joking about getting married. This is ridiculous!

She pushes off from the door and begins taking off her work clothes to change into something more comfortable.

Lila’s only justification for her odd behaviour is that she really is stressed out by the idea of having to leave the country. It’s not like she couldn’t start out again somewhere else, Australia maybe, the main thing is, she knows she can’t go back to England, too many bad memories there, but she just doesn’t want to.

She’s been floating about her whole life, and even though what she has going on right now isn’t exactly conventional, to her it feels like a respite. Maybe it won’t be permanent, but here in this city, with her job, and her flat, she’s been feeling significantly more settled than she has in a while and she doesn’t want to have to give that up so soon.

If only she could just marry Diego…

Is that really such an insane solution? Lila thinks to herself, while pulling on a pair of leggings.

She would pay him, of course, and she knows he needs the money. It’s a terribly weird thing to ask your landlord/recent lover/friend but Lila just cannot conceptualise any other solution. And he’s been remarkably patient with her antics over the last few days, maybe he’s actually a lot more relaxed about this sort of thing than she thinks. She can at least make the offer, worst case scenario they go back to being awkward around each other for a few days and she’s sure they’ll be back to normal in no time at all.

Lila makes her way back towards the kitchen and finds Diego already in the process of piling food onto the small table that barely has any room in the first place.

There’s a plate with little flat and round doughy things and a few dishes with different steaming fillings in them. There’s a decidedly spicy smell in the air and Lila can’t help the way her mouth starts watering.

“Yo, don’t just stand there, take a seat!” Diego says with a chuckle and Lila heads straight for the table and says with a laugh of her own, “Don’t have to tell me twice! Fuck that smells amazing! Did you make all of this yourself?”

“Uh, some of the fillings are made up of leftover takeout from the last couple of days,” Diego answers with a bit of a bashful shrug as he sits down across from her and shuffles around some of the dishes so he can squeeze one more onto the table, “but I made the gorditas and added some shit to the fillings,” he amends a bit more confidently.

Lila takes one of the little dough pockets and immediately starts spooning in different salsas and pastes. She doesn’t ask what’s in them, just picks up the dishes and gives them a sniff to decide which ones she wants.

“Mmmm!” she hums almost desperately when she takes her first bite. She looks up at Diego who is looking back at her with a glint in his eyes and chewing delightedly on his own food.

“Fuck, this is good!” Lila says, rudely not even having swallowed all of her mouthful.

“I know, right!” Diego answers with a chuckle.

They fall into easy conversation. At one point Diego gets up to get two beers from the fridge to wash down the food and Lila tries to get comfortable on the hard kitchen chair by tucking one of her feet underneath herself and her knee up under her chin.

After they run out of gorditas, Diego uses some slightly stale bread to finish up the rest of the fillings and then gets up to pile the dishes into the sink.

“I can do the dishes!” Lila offers, seeing as she’s been mooching off of Diego’s labour all evening.

“Nah,” Diego says, “dinner’s on me!”

As he starts filling the sink with water, the sudden domesticity of the scene reminds Lila of her plan to actually ask Diego for help.

She excuses herself and heads back to her room and while she’s rummaging through her drawers looking for her cheque book, her pulse starts speeding up and she tries to calm her nerves.

If he says no, she thinks she can handle the fallout of that, though she’ll still be lost for a way to stay in the country. But right now, she’s almost more anxious about what happens if he agrees. But tonight has been one of the most pleasant evenings she’s had in months and probably the most fun she’s had with anyone – she’s strenuously not thinking about the amount of fun she had sleeping with him. Diego’s her only real friend in this city and if after everything they can manage to hang out like this, then, Lila tries to convince herself, they can be pretend married for a while without it being too awkward.

Diego’s drying his hands on a dishtowel when she comes back into the kitchen.

“Diego?” Lila asks, tentatively.

“Mh?” He doesn’t properly acknowledge her as he reaches up to put the clean plates back into the overhead cabinet.

“Earlier… you asked if you could help me with my visa troubles…” Lila feels ridiculous. She’s always been confident and able to ask for, occasionally even straight up demand things. She has a sneaking suspicion that if it were anybody else, she’d just slap the cheque down on the counter and inform them of her plan, but somehow here with Diego, she’s just so unsure of herself.

Diego turns around and leans against the stove top. “Yeah?”

“I… uh… I’d pay you of course! I have money. Turns out I don’t have the same sense of pride as you,” Lila says with a slightly wistful shrug, “I took my mother’s money when she died, felt like it was the least I deserved after the way she treated me my whole life…” she drifts off.

“What do you want to give me money for?” Diego asks, crossing his arms but there’s a peculiar expression on his face that Lila can’t quite read.

“Will you…” She cuts herself off, she can’t ask him like that, “Would you marry me? You know, for money, so I could get a visa?”

Diego’s eyes go really, really wide. Clearly he did not expect her to ask that question and Lila immediately decides to backtrack, “No, you’re right, that’s insane! Forget I asked, I’m sure I can work something out somehow. I just need to do a bit more research and then…”

“Yeah, ok!” Diego interrupts her firmly and Lila’s mouth snaps shut.

She stares back at him and Diego looks no less harassed than when she first asked but he also seems resolved.

Lila panics. “You really don’t have to, I’m sure there’s loads of options. And honestly, if I’m just careful about it I’m sure nobody’s going to find…”

“I’ll do it!” Diego interrupts her rambling again and Lila can’t quite believe her ears.

“Diego, it’s illegal!” She says almost desperately.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it now?” Diego asks with no small amount of exasperation. Then he laughs, but with very little humour in it, “To be honest, the United States government and I have a slightly different understanding of what illegal means in this context.”

That gives Lila pause and she raises her eyebrows, questioningly.

Diego looks down at where he starts scuffing the toe of his shoe into the grout between the tiles, his arms are still tightly crossed.

“I was born in Mexico. From what I can piece together my mother brought me over the border when I was only a few months old. She died soon after that. The only things I have my father to thank for are my siblings and my citizenship. So yeah, I’ll help you.”

-

They’ve agreed to go down to city hall the next day to apply for a marriage license. No point in delaying the process, this way they can start the visa proceedings before Lila is officially illegally in the country.

After agreeing to get married the ease with which they spent the evening flies out of the window again and they quickly retreat to their separate rooms.

Diego’s lying, still dressed, on top of his comforter waiting till he can’t hear Lila moving about anymore before he’ll head to the bathroom to get ready for bed himself.

He doesn’t regret agreeing to Lila’s plan, not really. It’s fucked up that she has to even resort to something like this to avoid getting thrown out of the country, and honestly, had she asked he would have said yes even if she hadn’t offered him money.

But it’s less messy this way, a clean business arrangement. He already feels just a little bit guilty, because he’s not sure he didn’t also agree out of some sudden selfish fear that she’d leave. He pushes that thought back down as well, because what should he have done, say no just because he can’t quite handle his feelings for her? That wasn’t really an option either.

He breathes out heavily when the light in the hall goes off and gets up from the bed to go brush his teeth.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Wicked Child | Feeding Habits #2

Hey People of Earth!

I’m back with another writing update for Feeding Habits (Moth Work #2) at last!

A few things since the last update: this project is 100% going to be a novel and also has a title (Feeding Habits)!

Chapter two has been sort of strange to write as I actually had written a majority of it before starting over after realizing the events I’d written needed to happen later. This is why it’s taken me a while to update on this book, but I’ve finally completed the chapter and am now here to share it with y’all! 

Here’s a scene breakdown of this chapter, which is probably the longest chapter I’ve written in years (6300 words). Buckle up, this update is THICC.  TW: lots of religious content in this one.

Scene A: 

We go through Lonan’s lonely morning routine (lol) that’s interrupted by Anya, a neighbour he vaguely recognizes. She’s there to take him up to her apartment to paint her kitchen as her husband is away and can’t do it, a plan he was not aware of! (Eliza’s voluntold him to hopefully distract him from wanting to help his friend which is outlined in update #1). 

Scene B:

Anya dips before the scene starts to grab some extra supplies to make Lonan some sourdough so Lonan is tasked with watching her young son Joey while he tapes up the baseboards. This is where the “wicked child” aspect of this chapter comes in as he compares the wickedness he feels he and others in his life possess to the full innocence of Joey.

Scene C:

Anya gets back from running errands and at first, seems to be a *chill mom* but as she and Lonan interact more, we get to see that something isn’t fully right with her. From some observation, Lonan finally figures out Anya’s husband is actually dead and she’s struggling with grief.

Scene D:

Lonan is back in his apartment, filling up his bathroom sink. We know from Moth Work that one of Lonan’s hobbies is holding his breath underwater, and he does this in this scene to think. In the middle of this ritual, Eliza gets home and speaks to him as she unwinds, reading rather cryptic notes from fortune cookies she’s brought home with takeout.

Scene E:

Unbeknownst to her, Lonan’s not staying for dinner as Anya invited him to her place as a thank you! However this news doesn't break well and the two bicker until they’re both successfully upset.

Scene F:

Instead of going to Anya’s for dinner, Lonan finds himself at a church confessional. He stumbles through reconciliation in a bit of a haze and eventually heads outside where a concerned mother and her two kids ask if something’s wrong. His thoughts from scene D overwhelm him and he eventually sort of gives himself up to the moment in a bit of a chokehold with the sun.

Though this chapter took a while, I’m happy with the threads I introduced and really got to see Lonan’s mind at this point in time--a sort of lonely state of living. There’s also a lot of religion related stuff in this chapter which is always interesting to write as someone who grew up Catholic, and I was surprised at how pertinent these themes are in this book.

Excerpts:

Here’s the opening bit:

The next morning, Eliza leaves two energy shots on the counter for him, along with a slice of sourdough she bought from the bakery across the street. Both sit on a breakfast tray, room temperature from sitting out too long, icebergs of ginger floating along the glass’s surface, butter on the bread gone pallid and spongy. Next to it, she’s left a note, as she usually does: green casserole in the fridge, running low on OJ.

Lonan retrieves the television remote from the nook between the knife block and flicks the TV to life as he drinks the first shot. Gingerroot—and this morning, a new addition, carrot stems—mush against his incisors, and he swallows just as the TV brightens to an image of some amphibian, a leafy looking treefrog. The crank of their calls bulge like each red eye, the familiar husk of narration outlining the workings of mating. Lonan scoops up the second shot with his pinky and the saucer of sourdough with his index finger and thumb, takes both to the couch where he sits.

Classic Lonan (TM) interaction:

He’s mid chewing the stale crust when he opens the door, expecting a package delivery, an unaddressed sympathy card. Instead, a woman stands in the door, her hair damp and smelling like the coconut salve Eliza rubs onto her kneecaps. He recognizes her face in a fleeting, neighbour-like way, someone he might’ve held the door open for, or let step off the elevator first.

“Breakfast?” She points to the crumb stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Lonan swallows the remainder of the sourdough quickly, combing off the crumb with a shallow smile.            

“Sourdough.”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“It’s probably from the back of our medicine cabinet.”

The woman laughs at this, though he’s not fully meant for it to be a joke. 

Apparently a new motif in this book is the word stunning that both serves as a descriptor for something magnificent/dazzling and the process of subduing an animal (love being heavy handed about this lmao):

She peers at their half-bloody kitchen wall. “You’re doing red?”

“Eliza’s vegetarian.” At the woman’s blank stare, he turns to look at the wall, examining each plane of his throat as hot embarrassment makes him red like the paint. “Her favourite colour. We’re trying something new. Avant garde.” All things he’s heard Eliza say.

“That’s unique. Very. So unique,” she says, adding, “It’s so kind of you to offer some help while you’re in the middle of painting your own kitchen. When Eliza told me about your offer, I danced in my living room. Is that weird? I danced because I’m going to have a green kitchen—a green one.”

Lonan nods, and steps farther back into the apartment, toward the stack of paint rollers, one of many rolls of tape. “Of course,” he says.

“It makes you feel alive,” the woman says. He forgets what she’s referring to, doesn’t know her name, only vague details like the jeweled bangles she wears on one wrist, the shiny cast of hair gel stirruped around her curls, her teeth, white, like the canines of a wolf. But she doesn’t seem to notice, a starriness in her gaze as she says, “The paint. The green. It’s stunning. Isn’t it?”

Anya’s initial dialogue is some of my favourite I’ve written. Probably because of the moon mention lol. Also Joey’s just chillin and I love him for that!!

The woman’s name is Anya, and she lives three floors up. He finds this out at the same time he finds out Eliza offered to paint her kitchen on his behalf, though what Anya says sounds more like “When Eliza told me you’d paint the wall, I could’ve—what is that saying? I could’ve jumped over the moon. I would’ve. The entire thing. All its phases.”

Anya’s got a toddler named Joey. He’s turning two next month, a little boy with a curly halo for hair, two dimples Lonan sees whenever he glances up from his tape-job of the baseboards. Joey eats apple slices dipped in almond butter and watches cartoons with both feet propped onto the couch cushion, too short to dangle down. Ever so often, he laughs, a shimmery sound, like the inside of a snow globe. Lonan half-watches him, as Anya’s asked—He’s good, don’t stress—if he cries, he wants you to turn up the TV—because she’s out of bread flour and insists on making Lonan two loaves of sourdough.

Some Joey:

“Joey’s good, isn’t he?” she asks, her fingers curving around the tape company’s logo. Lonan inhales. Anya smells like Eliza sometimes does, vaguely floral, like jasmine, or cherry blossoms. “Children are little blessings. Powerful little blessings.”

Of course, he should say. There’s no other way to describe a child—he’s a blissful little thing, his only purpose to keep his feet in his two-inch socks, to stare wistfully at a television like it’s telling his fortune in a language of pictures. Of course a child is a blessing—soft cheeks like the belly of bread dough, pinchable, kissable, thumbable, hands dipped into glittery tempera paint and fingers that make chicken scratches that will never be anything but art. Of course, he should say. He knows that, he should say. But Lonan’s vision fuzzes. He sees little of the TV colours projected on the walls like a hypnotic, technicolour exorcism; he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be that small, what it’s like to have his hands expand right in front of him, like seedlings. 

Here’s the title drop ft. a rewritten Bible verse (Revelation 21:8):

He wants to believe children are always powerful little blessings that stay good. He doesn’t know why he doubts her. Joey is just this—a blessing on her couch, smiling at a screen because it’s all he needs to do. But he knows better, knows the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable exist, where they all live, and how they all start—as little blessings. He’s met murderers, liars, sorcerers in the shape of his father, sisters, mothers, all the wicked things that emerge from their second deaths unscathed. He doesn’t know what makes a child wicked. If he is one. If he’s been one. How many wicked children he knows. 

Eliza hasn’t returned any of Lonan’s phone calls since he tried dialling somewhere between the first and last half of the wall. It’s obvious Anya knows he wasn’t aware of the plan, which is why every few minutes, she states new reasons for her forgetfulness with the time. “Eliza ran into me in the hallway, and I’m so bad at hallways,” she said, while rolling the dough between her knuckles. “So many turns.” Brushing her benchtop with more flour: “Time as a mother is such a commodity. It’s like, what’s the down payment for five minutes alone? But Joey’s worth it. Joey’s always worth it. He’s just magnificent. Can’t stay away from magnificence.”

More interactions I adore:

“You want some OJ?”

Lonan looks up from the paint blankly, focusing on Anya in an embarrassingly slow haze. “What?”

Anya reaches over to the fridge and tugs on its stainless-steel handle. It gives with a haunted sound, a subtle sort of groaning, and emerges with a glass bottle of orange juice.

“OJ,” she says, and shakes the bottle so the liquid froths.

“Oh,” he says. Green casserole in the fridge. Running low on OJ. “We’re low on that.”

Okay sorry but I’m so in love with Anya and Lonan’s interactions lol:

“Where are you from again?” She undoes her apron from the back with one hand. It falls, a lilac clump, onto the tile, and she leaves it there, only nudging it slightly with her toe.

Her eyes are golden too. Everything in her apartment. Even the silver parts are somehow gold. How much she could pawn off for eyes like those, like individual buttons of solid gold. Anya squints, and there the gold goes, focusing on him until she leans forward and plucks a strand of hair from his jaw. It sags with green paint, and before he blinks, she’s clipped it with a pair of kitchen shears.

“You got some paint on you.”

“Oregon,” he says. “Boston. New York.”

“What?”

“You asked where I’m from.”

Anya pockets his hair. He’s sure it’s a subconscious tick—she hasn’t even realized—but still, he wonders what she’ll do with it. If she’ll send it somewhere to get scanned, bagged, tested. How much you can find out about someone with just a nib of hair.

“That’s a lot of places,” she says. “You’re basically transcontinental.”

From her pocket, Anya’s hand twitches. He wonders what she’s doing, if she’s touching the hair, or flaking off its paint, or simply flattening out her pocket.

“Are you going to clone me?” He gestures to her pocket.

Anya doesn’t look.

“I could.”

“Why?”

“You paint walls fast. You’ve got nice hair.”

“Do you collect hair?”

“Just from the people I like.”

We get to see Anya unravel a little here as she and Lonan share a drink:

He’s always been good at watching. This is what he does as Anya pulls a miniature bottle of a deep amber liquid from her fridge along with the orange juice, mixing them together so what he pushes toward him smells like ammonia. She drinks half, an easiness as she swallows, and then slides the glass to him.

He leaves it there for a while. He watches Joey, how he claps when more animals show up on screen and gets quiet during the wrangle of commercials. He’s gold just like his mother, with a gap tooth that matches the man’s who grins in every photo hung neatly on the walls. A face he doesn’t remember, not even in the hazy slots he reserves for what he remembers working the hardware store. No evidence of him anywhere else, the shoes on the front mat only women’s heels or child-sized sneakers. One hook that holds one set of keys. Only the photographs.

“Where is your husband right now?” he asks. One wine glass in the sink. One coffee mug. One saucer.

“Businessman. Very busy.”

“I don’t remember him coming into the store.”

Anya takes another sip of the orange juice even though it’s Lonan’s turn to drink. Anya looks at Joey, a desperate fondness that answers Lonan’s question for him. She looks at him like she’s searching for the face of the man in the pictures, searching because she hasn’t seen it in years.

Anya really unravelling:

Anya’s face is bloated and red, a soreness in her eyes like she needs to blink but can’t. Lonan instinctually reaches for her hand, and it’s then that he notices it—two wedding bands on her ring finger. Her fingertips jolt him, but her palms are warm, the skin there taut, like she’s been clutching it for years.

“I thought the wall would help. Green means new life. Doesn’t it? I read that in a magazine. That it brings new life, I mean. New beginnings. New, new, new.”

Lonan getting existential ft. the first Harrison mention so far tho I’ll probably cut it because I want it to be a little more impactful and also half of this makes no sense oops:

His father is a dead man. Just like Anya’s husband is a dead man. Lonan knows so many dead men. Some that matter more than others, some names he revisits sometimes at the graveyard when Eliza thinks he’s out to run an errand as innocent as replacing a bad container of cottage cheese. He knows of men who are dead but still living, like Harrison’s father who no longer exists as a person in his dimension, but a corpse, hanging around in unnecessary things like a last name, an eye colour. Beyond men, he knows of many other dead things: dead pets, dead street names, dead countries, dead houseplants, dead first ladies.

He knows what a dead father does, what a dead heart does, that these things are meant to die—an inevitable thing; a sort of giving up of flesh, burying, toiling into new soil.

This is basically a monologue:

Lonan is in love with Eliza. He always has been. He always will be. There is nothing better than being in love with Eliza. There is nothing wrong with being in love with Eliza. There is no reason to not be in love with Eliza. Eliza is intelligent. Eliza is driven. Eliza is sensitive. Eliza tries to listen. Eliza knows how to take care of him. Eliza knows how to spell words like zolpidem, wears lipstick in the shade Very Vermillion and is delighted when it rubs onto her teeth. Eliza is lucky. Eliza is hypnotic. Eliza is a holy woman, a sacred woman, a careful woman, a wicked woman. 

Lonan gulps water. Too much to keep himself controlled; he sputters, splatters the mirror. He hooks his fingers over his waterline, tugging until water falls out. He paces, chews his palms like Anya did, and steadies himself slowly from the counter to the tile. He is a wicked child. Eliza is a wicked child. Everyone he knows—all wicked children.          

“Accept what comes to you each day,” Eliza says, which means she’s opened three of four of the cookies. “That’s truthful. That’s raw. That’s all you need to do.”

Some Eliza dialogue I like in reply to Lonan’s statement that he can’t do things since she bars him from driving:

“You don’t need a car to do things, Lonan.” She stirs her bowl of congee, the plastic spoon scraping against the Styrofoam. “You need hobbies. Like cross stitch. Pickling. Painting neighbours’ walls.”

Lonan and Eliza being Lonan and Eliza:

Lonan secures his fingers around the tin of madeleines and shifts once more, only for her to mimic his movement. They dance like this for a moment—his shuffle left matched by her shuffle left, his step up matched by her own. More of her mascara has smudged from where she unclumped her lashes, a lazy slash of colour like a samurai belt. Even their stares match each other—as he bores through her with a nimble focus like it’ll move her somehow, she does the same.

Here’s a line I like:

As she reddens, he adds this to his list of synonyms for baptism: to tame. 

Here’s an excerpt featuring self indulgence and proof I miss Harrison:

The confessional smells rank, like rotting paper and expired cologne, all of its corners seedy with overuse. Scratches mar the fabric he rests his elbows on, like someone clawed into it while reliving their sins, track marks on the floor from a rainy day. He can’t imagine anyone else but him in this small box, caged in by the lattice, mumbling incoherent sins to the priest he hasn’t even committed. Stealing a set of glass eyeballs from a garage sale. Forgetting his wedding anniversary. Missing Easter Sunday mass to go whale watching. He doesn’t sign himself at the right times or speak at the right times or thank the priest at the right times. He lies when he’s asked if he’s lied since his last confession. He mentions nothing of drinking with Anya, of not saving the sheep or the bunnies even though he knew the outcome of their lives without finishing the program. Of being a wicked child, of knowing wicked children, of not knowing the difference between wickedness and innocence, and which one he learned first. He says his name is Luka. He works at a law firm. He’s married to a Harriet, a seamstress or a stock broker or an antiques trader—he doesn’t know. He likes golfing, parcheesi, drinking martinis on yachts. He’s never overindulged, he’s loyal to his woman, he wants three kids and a house with finished floors and no neighbours. He’s a good father, a gentle father, a careful father, no wickedness, just an empty shell of goodness, like a father should be. His father is retired, and visits him on weekends—they play checkers, paint birdhouses, keep a distance but toast with spirits he can’t pronounce. Everything is good—it’s all good, all good. That’s not a sin, the priest should say but they laugh—it’s good to be good. Children are good, marriage is good, fathers are good, everything an iteration of good. By the time his confession is over and he’s well on his way out of the church mumbling I am heartily sorry, he believes his lies are true—he’s absolved into someone new, Luka married to Harriet, three kids, an empty shell, dreamily stumbling through a house with finished floors that’s actually just the sidewalk until a woman passing by with a two small children has to help him sit on the curb.

This image gives me Forever & Ever More by Nothing But Thieves vibes (music video was def inspo):

She asks if he needs something to drink, if he needs someone to call, and emerges with a half-empty bottle of sparkling water and a cell phone. She asks what’s wrong with his eye, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with anything—with eyes, with children, with sins, with confessions, with baptisms, with orange juice, with madeleines, with wickedness, with practicing how long he can breathe underwater because he knows it’s possible just like walking on it.

One of the children, hair pulled into two plaits secured with pearlescent butterfly bobbles, pokes at her mother and asks if he’s crazy. Her mother shushes her at the same time her older sister shows him a cool trick she learned with a toy convertible. Its wheels whir. Lonan gasps. The girl says, “Even crazy people think I’m gifted,” and wheels the car again. People stop to watch. Church bells gong an elegy he’s sure he’s heard before. The woman’s sparkling water dribbles from his mouth and dampens his dress shirt. Sun eclipses his face and eats at his throat like a parasite, like it knows all the unclean things about him, a watcher, an eyeball, a scorching little thing that bullets through his neck like the tooth of a wolf. The woman shushes her children and asks if he’s got a health problem, a drug problem, any problem, and he could say yes to all three but instead keeps repeating I am heartily sorry, I am heartily sorry. And when she does call someone, no one he knows, he leans against the cool pavement, cranes his neck to the sky, and parts his lips so the sunlight fills his mouth.

So that’s it for this update! I haven’t really been drafting lately, but I hope I can get more of this written because I love sharing!

--Rachel

[funnylori]

Baking alchemy: if the recipe says use a pan, use metal; if the recipe calls for a dish, use ceramic or glass. Otherwise you may need to adjust baking times and temperatures to get an even bake.

For example, my bread pans are glass, and that's why the inside of my banana bread is crazy moist (ie almost underbaked) and the outside is so browned. Though, using glass for pies instead of the recommended metal pans is handy if you're new to pastry. It will help you see when the bottom of your pie is truly baked. It can be dangerous to check the bottom of hot pies, so use the buddy system. Don't be spilling hot pie filling all over yourselves.

Also, know your oven. Get an analog oven thermometer and leave it in there. I used to have one I'd hang from the center rack so I had a good idea of how it was doing. My oven is hella slow on a good day. I think the element needs maintenance.

I like to use chocolate chip cookies as my gauge of how an oven is heating. The time it takes them to be perfectly baked is what I keep in mind for everything else. Normally the recipe I use says it should take 9 minutes to bake but they are still raw then. It takes my oven 12 minutes to get them browned on the edges and still have just baked but still gooey soft centers. If you're not confident about your mixing skills using store bought dough is totally okay! It's honestly easier to check temperature with dough you know is consistently made.

☆☆☆WRITE NOTES DIRECTLY IN YOUR COOKBOOK☆☆☆

You'll learn new things every time you make something. Adjustments you like. Things that work or don't work. You'll 100% forget what those are at some point and then be frustrated. Also, use bookmarks like little sticky note tabs to help you find your favorites.

Anyway, I'm making a rhubarb pie for my dad because tomorrow is his birthday. I'm not sure how I'm gonna deliver the pie to my dad safely, but that's another story. But I make pretty good pie crusts because I use my dad's recipe. It's flakey, tender, and tastes good. I hate chewy or though crusts. My dad mixes his dough so gently it's often not strong enough to actually get a slice of pie out of the pan in one piece. It tastes so good we don't care. I like to mix mine just a touch longer so it holds up better, but it's really easy to over mix it and make a tough crust.

Tonight my husband was chatting about how one of his friends was getting help making pastry for crusts via zoom meetings. He said I should make a video of mine and share it. Maybe I will if people are intrested. I can do the fancy way and the bare bones no special tools way. I like to bake and I like to make things accessible to everybody. I still wrote it out for him, you can have it too.

If you have read this far my perfect pie crust recipe is 3 parts flour to 1 part fat and a pinch of salt.

For me that's usually 2 cups all purpose flour and 2/3rds cup shortening for a single crust in my pyrex 9.5 inch glass pie pan with a little extra left over for decorating. Fruit pies need a top crust or lattice so in that case I'd use 3 cups flour and 1 cup shortening.

Blend the fat with the flour in a bowl. I use a pastry blender cutter thing (not the kind that are a bunch of round wires with a handle, but the kind that's more metal with flat blades like this one). You can also use a couple of butterknives for this. Use a twisting motion with the pastry blender to cut the fat into the flour until it's combined into about pea sized chunks. I like to scrape the blender with a knife or fork every few turns. Don't over work it or it will get tough! You want the chunks, it'll become flakey bits. There will still be some finer bits that are more flour.

Stir in ice cold water a couple tablespoons at a time until things just start coming together. Like, be cautious with the water and use a fork to combine it with the dough with kind of a whisking motion to moisten the dry flour bits and get them sticking to the floury fat bits. How much water you need varies with the weather and humidity. Definitely don't get the dough too wet. If it gets sticky you've gone too far. You only need enough water to get it all to just come together into a ball. Once it starts coming together you'll see it's kinda shaggy, that's your flakes! Gently push it together into a ball and flatten into a puck or disk. Push the edges together so it rolls out evenly later. Don't knead the dough! If it's not staying together maybe give it one or two light kneading turns in the bowl but no more or you'll get a tough crust. If it's warm or a hot day, wrap the dough in plastic and put it in the fridge for a bit. Keeping the fat cold keeps the flakes.

When you're ready, generously flour a flat surface and roll it out. If you're worried about picking it up to put it in a pan, roll the crust out in between two floured sheets of waxed paper. Beware that it'll totally still stick to the waxed paper if you aren't careful to keep checking that it's floured enough while rolling it out. I have a fancy silicone mat I got to put on my table when I roll out crusts, but it's honestly a pain in the ass and stuff still sticks if there isn't enough flour.

For sizing, hold your pie pan upside down over the crust and roll at least two inches wider than that. Drape the crust into the pie pan, don't stretch it. Lift the sides and ease it into the bottom. Wrap it a little bit over the edge of the pan and trim the excess. This recipe has a habit of shrinking in the pan, so having a bit extra around the edges helps keep it in place. Prick all over with a fork if blind baking / baking it empty, and bake at 425°F until golden brown, which is probably around 15 minutes.

For my fat I always always use butter flavored vegetable shortening such as crisco*. It tastes good and works consistently well. Butter is sometimes used, so is lard. They have different water contents and work differently so experiment with them before expecting them to work with my recipe. Shortening is solid and works good at room temperature. Butter should be worked colder and has water in it which changes how bakes turn out. I've never tried making a butter or lard for crust myself though.

My mom always made us a treat with the extra crust bits cut off from the pie pan. She'd put the funky strips on a cookie sheet and dust them with cinnamon and sugar and bake it them for us. Usually she'd forget to pull them out until we could smell them burning around the edges.

*when trans fats were banned because they're truly awful for the body, the formulation of vegetable shortening changed to include palm oil, which is so so bad for the environment and deforestation destroying orangutan habitat. It might be option for crusts, but it can have ethical issues as well. Check your ingredients and where they come from. Bob's Red Mill has an article on shortening, what it is, why you want to use it for crusts, and what it can be made of.

Anyway, I love pies and have strong feelings about crusts that goes quite deep. I can keep going, if y'all wanna know more about anything. Lemme know if you want directions to good videos or if I should make one myself. I'll post a picture of the pie tomorrow once it's set and we cut into it.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Crusty No-Knead Artisan Bread & Bread Baking Tips

Inspired by a request from @grandpa-sweaters, I will be posting some of my favorite recipes for the holidays during the 12 Days of Solstice. In my mind, nothing is better than a freshly baked loaf of bread. Baking bread can seem intimidating at first, but once you get the hang of it, you learn that bread dough is actually quite forgiving, and it doesn't take much effort to produce a loaf that will absolutely wow everyone at your holiday feast.

Case in point is the old world magic of the Crusty No-Knead Artisan Bread. It's so simple that you can throw the ingredients together in a few minutes at night, do nothing with it for 12-18 hours, then wake up and bake it to perfection in about an hour. As the title suggests, you don't have to knead it. You simply mix flour, salt, water, and yeast into a bowl and cover it with a towel. You need some kind of covered dish in which to bake it. This could be a Dutch oven or a covered Pyrex casserole dish from the 1970's (what I use) or an oven-safe pot with a lid. Anything that retains heat and traps steam inside will allow the loaf to form that wonderfully crusty exterior that will make people think you are a true master of the loaf. 

You can find hundreds of variations on this recipe on the internet, but I like to share this one by Janet Barton because the long FAQ she includes is extremely useful for people who are learning to bake bread. 

A few tips for baking this bread and basically any other yeast loaf:

Activate your yeast. Even though most recipes don't call for this step, I like to throw my yeast into a little bowl with a cup of lukewarm water and a tiny bit of sugar (less than a teaspoon) and let it sit on the counter for ten minutes before I do anything. The yeast will get all bubbly and then I know it's alive and my bread will rise.

Keep it warm. Yeast doesn't work in environments that are too hot or too cold, so find a nice cozy spot in your kitchen for the dough to proof and yell at your family if they leave the back door open and create a draft. Likewise, don't use hot water or let your dough sit by a heat source. Follow the goldilocks principle.

Break the rules. Baking bread does not require the same strict precision as baking things like cakes or cookies. In fact, sticking dogmatically to the recipe can often result in a less desirable loaf because things like the type of flour you use or the humidity in your kitchen or the phase of the moon (probably) can make your dough unexpectedly too wet or too dry. Pay attention to the description of the dough's consistency in the recipe. Don't be afraid to add a bit more flour if the author says the dough should stop sticking to the bowl, but it's sticking to your fingers and every surface in your kitchen.

Follow the rules. I know I just said it’s okay to break them. But when it comes to the ingredients you’re using, make sure you’re either putting in what the recipe calls for, or you know how to compensate for the difference a substitution will make. If your recipe calls for all-purpose flour, you can’t substitute it completely with whole wheat flour and get a good result. I have a relative who tries this all the time because she wants to make it healthy, and then complains that her bread is tough. Look for a recipe using whole wheat flour instead, or do a little research to figure out how much you can substitute before the consistency of your loaf is affected.

Let it rise. Yeast needs time to do its thing, so it's important that you let it rise long enough. If the recipe says to let it rise for 90 minutes or until it has doubled in size, check it at 90 minutes but leave it for as long as it takes to actually double. For a No-Knead loaf, the extremely long rise is what allows you to skip kneading. I have baked it after 8 hours when I'm impatient, but the flavor and texture improves up to the 18 hour point. If the recipe calls for you to let the dough rest for ten minutes before you start kneading, listen to it. The dough will become more elastic as it rests and your hands or your stand mixer will thank you.

Preheat the oven. For No-Knead loaves, you have to heat the vessel in which you'll be cooking the dough for 30 minutes before you even start baking. But you should always make sure your oven comes all the way to temperature before you throw that baby in there. A lot of expansion is created as the water in the dough turns into steam. If your oven isn't hot enough, your loaf will suffer for it.

Use enough salt. A lot of bread recipes involve very few ingredients, which means that every single one of them is incredibly important! Don't skimp on the salt. If you have flaky sea salt or kosher salt, use that instead of table salt. It's delicious.

Let it cool. I know you want to slice into that bad boy and eat it the second it's done, but bread continues to develop texture and flavor even after you remove it from the oven. Give it at least an hour to cool when it's done if you're not willing to wait for it to come to room temperature. Threaten to stab your family with the bread knife if they don't leave it alone until it's ready. Revel in your newfound power as master of the loaf.

[hollyhomburg]

wots ur favorite bread recipes! i jus started making homemade Goods and the process is lowkey addicting

okay so in my world of cooking measurements don't exist so maybe add roughly a 1/2-1 tablespoon of each of the seasonings? my bread recipie is 3 cups flour to one cup water, measure out 2 1/2 cups flour into a bowl, add thyme, rosemary, red pepper flakes, lots of salt, pepper, onion powder and garlic powder into the dry mixture. 

dissolve a bit of sugar into warm water and combine a table spoon (1/16 cup of yeast) with that water and let it rest for 5 minutes or until frothy. then combine the mixture slowly, adding a bit of olive oil as you go. spread a little bit of flower if the dough seems too wet and sticky. usually, I find this recipe tends to be drier especially if you don't add enough olive oil so get a feel for it and if its not sticking to your hands you’re probably fine and you dont need to flower whatever surface youre working on. 

once its seeming relatively incorporated. get it into a circle shape then leave it be in a metal mixing bowl after you’ve coated the outside with more olive oil and covered the bowl in plastic wrap. I know most people use a dishcloth, but I find plastic wrap actually makes the yeast rise easier and quicker because it incubated the heat better if you’re in a little bit of a colder environment. if you have a fire or a space heater or even a sunny spot that's great too. 

after your dough doubles in size. take it out, kneed it a little but not too much because you don't want all the air to come out of it, and start to separate it into buns- I find this bread recipe cooks the best if you make it into little rolls and not a loaf. usually, I can make about 7-8 rolls from this recipe which is perfect for dinner. Grease whatever pan you’re going to bake them on and let the buns rest for another 30 minutes or so until they’ve risen for a second time. then top them off with an egg white wash and some fresh herbs if you’ve got them, cheese if you’re feeling fancy. 

bake them at like 350 ish degrees but honestly, our oven is really shitty so I have no idea what temperature its actually putting out. cook them until they’re golden brown and they should make this dull hollow thud when you smack them with a knife if they’ve cooked all the way through. let them cool a little and enjoy! 

here are some of my rolls I've made! Last one was before it went into the oven!

[purplesurveys]

1034

survey by tater-tots What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? Hahahaha. That’s a pass for me; I can’t imagine regularly eating fruit at any set time of the day.

Do you enjoy any food combinations that others might consider to be weird? I like to eat fish with mayonnaise, which was always normal in our household but I realized was weird when I first saw the horrified expressions on my friends’ faces when they saw me use the combination. I like mayonnaise with a lot of other foods as well, which a lot of people generally find weird.

What is a green vegetable that you enjoy eating? Broccoli and asparagus.

Name something you might find in a salad. In my salad, you’ll always find tuna sashimi in it heh.

What is your favorite type of sandwich? Anything that’s like an Eggs Benedict or Monte Cristo. 

Which condiment do you use the most often? Mayo, for sure. Banana ketchup too. I also like sriracha sauce but my dad hasn’t been buying a new bottle of it for a while. 

Name a chocolate bar that you enjoy eating. It’s called Whittaker’s - just not sure what country it hails from; maybe Australia? - and I like their peanut butter variant. Google also told me it’s a New Zealander brand.

What is a meat that you do not eat - ever. Dog or cat.

Are you lactose intolerant, or have any other sort of food allergies? I’m mildly lactose intolerant but I ignore it because a lot of my favorite foods use dairy. Other than that, no food allergies.

What was the last food that you burnt your mouth on? Just plain rice, haha. I had been extremely hungry and I just wanted to dig in; but I ended up spitting it back out.

Which brand of soup do you eat? I don’t regularly have soup, much less buy canned brands of it. 

What are some flavors of ice cream that your enjoy? Cookies and cream, mint chocolate, coffee, chocolate chip cookie dough, queso real.

What is the best type of cookie, in your opinion? I like keeping things classic when it comes to cookies, and I’ve always been perfectly happy with chocolate chip cookies :)

Would you rather have popcorn, pretzels, or chips as your salty snack? Chips. I dislike the other two as I only like the softer, doughy version of pretzels.

Have you thought about going on a diet & actually went through with it? No.

--

survey by pinkchocolate

When you woke up today, was there anything on your mind? Kinda. I felt sad and I was aware of it instantly, compared to most days where the sadness will take a while to build.

Who was the last person you interacted with for the first time? Literally speaking, maybe the barista at Starbucks who took my temperature at the entrance before I was let in the store. I interacted with her yesterday.

What colour was the wrapper of the last snack you ate? White. It’s more of a tiny bag than a wrapper, though.

Do you have a favourite mug to drink from? What does it look like? Yeah, I’ve since claimed my mom’s mug for myself. It’s a copper mug with the Starbucks label on it. It looks super minimalist which I appreciate.

What was the last thing you used, that came in a spray can? It was a Lysol spray.

What colour is your favourite bra? Don’t really have one.

Who was the last person you went to for advice about something? I think it was Andi. I’ve been going to them a lot for help, advice, extra sanity, etc. lately. If it hasn’t been for them I probably would’ve left a few months back.

Have you had a deep conversation with anyone lately? Yes. I finally met up with Gab yesterday to discuss a lot things, iron some stuff out, figure out where to go from here.

What was the last compliment you recall receiving from someone? I’m not sure, I haven’t been receiving any.

And the last compliment you gave to someone else? It was most likely a compliment for Andi on how helpful they’ve been to me.

What kind of bread did you eat most recently? Flatbread.

What was the last sound you heard, that you found pleasant? We were watching a mass livestream earlier and I was delighted when they played the closing song.

How many books do you think there are in your house? Take a rough guess. I would guess around 60, the overwhelming bulk of them mine.

Of all the books you own, which do you think has the most pages in it? It would definitely either be Gone with the Wind or Les Miserables, but I’m not sure which one is thicker.

^ And how many pages is that? I checked both of my copies and they’re soooo close – GWTW has 1,440 pages while Les Mis has 1,463.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema? What did you think of it? Knives Out. I went to the mall yesterday and the cinemas were still closed, so it’s not like I’d be able to watch new movies at theatres anyway. Anyway, I’ve been vocal about the movie enough times on my surveys but I didn’t enjoy it. Whodunnits were never my cup of tea, but Gab had wanted to see it and I didn’t want to make her watch the film alone.

In the last book you read, what was the main character's name? Haven’t been reading.

What was the last song you heard, that meant something to you? Lose by Niki.

How many people do you know whose name begins with Z? I can only recall one such person at the moment; it’s one of my mom’s aunts who also doubled as a principal sponsor for my mom and dad’s wedding.

What do you expect to be doing at this time tomorrow? Maybe doing my embroidery (my package finally arrived!!) or surveys or watching Start-Up, because tomorrow will be a holiday :)

--

survey by luckforlemmy

Did you start listening to more Michael Jackson after his death? I can remember that there was definitely a brief period after his death that I caught up with his discography and listened to MJ nearly everyday; I read up on him and his life as well. 11 year old me figured he must’ve been an interesting figure because of the big reception around his death, so I wanted to know the reasons behind it.

When was the last time that you played hide and seek? I can vividly remember the day when Nina and I played hide and seek when the house was newly-built and still devoid of furniture, back in maybe ‘07 or ‘08. I’m fairly certain that was the last time I played hide and seek.

Who was your first celebrity crush, if you can remember? It was a tie between Ashley Tisdale and Zac Efron, though the older I get the more I’ve been convinced that I ‘crushed’ on Zac only because I was surrounded by girls who went crazy over him in school. I’m pretty sure my first real celebrity crush was Ashley, hahaha.

Do you worry about money? Yeah, especially now. I can’t even enjoy my first paycheck because most of it’s gonna go to Christmas presents, but oh well; at least I can finally buy gifts for my loved ones who’ve always gotten me presents.

Have you ever had to beg for a second chance? Kind of, when I was trying to convince Gab to let our relationship have another shot four years ago. Beg is a strong word for what I actually did, though. It was more of me pitching the idea, not begging.

When was the last time that you sent an actual letter through the mail? I don’t think I even ever did that, not even when I was younger and snail mail was still kind of a thing.

Are you excited to return to school? There’s nothing to return to anymore. Unless I decided to take up a post-grad course in the future, I’m done with school.

Do you hate Internet abbreviations? It can just feel a bit jarring when they’re used excessively in a single sentence, but I honestly don’t mind it for the most part. It’s understandable especially now that most, if not all, of my interactions whether personal or for work happen online.

What was the last insult you gave out? I was never really the roasting type of person, not even towards my friends.

What'd you last look up on YouTube? Hahaha I looked up ‘skynwallz.’ I was looking for the episode of Rhett and Link’s vlogs where they painted the rooms of their offices in the color of their entire person – hair, eyes, and skin. They were joking about starting a new business for it called Skynwallz, so that’s what I looked up.

Are you texting someone really awesome right now? No, I prefer to be alone today.

Do you know when to be serious and when you shouldn't be? Er sure, it’s not that hard.

Do you think that you're funny? I like my sense of humor, yeah, but I know it’s not always going to translate to everybody’s tastes. For example, I’m still figuring out the dynamic in the team I was put in at work, so I can’t make the same jokes that I would normally say with my co-interns with whom I have a more comfortable relationship.

Have you ever sent a secret to Post Secret? I don’t know what this is, so no.

What movie do you really want to see in theatres right now? They aren’t showing anything at the moment. A movie I want to see badly, though, is Ammonite.

Have either of your parents shown affection for you today? My mom made breakfast for us, if it counts. She also gives each of her kids a kiss during the peace-giving portion at mass, so there’s that as well.

What's the last thing that you sang out loud? I watched Start Up before this survey and was humming to the song that was being played at the end of the episode. I couldn’t sing along to it because it was in Korean, but I knew the melody so I hummed.

Is there a word that you always misspell? Rhythm is one of my worst enemies for sure. I also have a love-hate relationship with accommodate.

What was the last thing that you bought that someone else benefited from? I met up with Gabie yesterday and bought her her favorite meal from Yabu to break the ice – menchi katsu with brown rice. I originally got mozzarella sticks for myself but when we got to talking, she mentioned her sisters at one point; I remembered how much I miss them, so I gave up my food and told her to just give my food to her sisters since I hadn’t touched it yet anyway.

Has someone ever made you a really great mix CD? Andi gave me one before she made the flight to New Zealand 10 years ago to permanently live there. I believe I still have it, but I’m just not sure where it currently is.

Have you ever been on Omegle.com? Yes, when I was a teenager and it was new.

Did you talk to someone cool there? Not really; most seem to exit our chat after we did the whole asl thing. I also avoided the webcam option because my anxiety for video calls has always been present.

What song reminds you of your best friend? Any song by The Maine.

Who was the last person to hit on you? Some creep on Facebook.

What's on the paper nearest you? It’s the guide for my embroidery kit. It tells me what stitches to do and the colors of thread to use for the different parts of the template I was provided with.

Do you have a set of lyrics that you really love? From Paramore’s Pool: “As if the first cut wasn’t deep enough, I dove in again ‘cause I’m not into giving up Could’ve gotten the same rush from any lover’s touch, But why get used to something new When no one breaks my heart like you” I scream those lyrics every time they come on. I know I often showed the good, shiny side of my relationship on these surveys; but it was very much toxic at a lot of points and those lyrics - and that song - served as a nest for me, something that told me someone understands how I sometimes felt about my own relationship.

Did you get an A in your last English class? I got a 1.25 instead of a perfect 1.00, but I think that’s still equivalent to an A so yes.

What did you last use scissors for? Cutting thread.

Did you ever secretly hate a friend of yours that thought you liked them? That makes me sound shitty lol, but yeah I’ve acted nicely to people I don’t particularly like.

What do you think of when I say "boat"? That episode of Friends where Joey bought himself a boat at an auction; and Canadian accents.

Would you ever get a tattoo sleeve? Nope. I planned on getting one as a teenager, but I grew out of that phase.

Do you know any really fake people? Yep. I think everyone’s got to be at some point.

What does the last blanket you used look like? It’s pink and has multi-colored polka dots on it.

Do you have appreciation for graffiti? Sure, especially if it’s for political purposes (that I agree with).

Why don't you drive? I do. I just have done it a lot less because I have had little need for driving and traveling to places throughout the pandemic.

Does it annoy you when your printer runs out of ink? I think we have the kind of printer that never runs out of ink, but I’m not exactly sure about the terminologies or how the technology works. I let my sister do the printing hahaha.

Have you ever drank anything from a thermos? Yes, mostly water and coffee.

When was the last time you played in the snow? Never.

Do you know any ignorant people? Sure, mostly Gen X-ers and Boomers.

What is the coolest name you've ever heard? Thylane.

What did you last argue with someone about? Relationship stuff. It wasn’t a full-blown argument, but when Gab and I talked yesterday it was natural for us to disagree on a few points.

Is there anyone that you dislike for no real reason? Hmm, I don’t think so. If I feel that strongly about someone, I usually have a reason otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to them.

Have you had a good day? It was okay; it was nice. I got to do my embroidery hoop art thing, got to watch a couple episodes of Start Up, played with Cooper, and now I’m doing these surveys and am planning to continue my embroidery later. It’s nice to feel productive about non-work things :)

Are you going to have a good night? I hope.