#like diced and sautéed

[beanxiv]

i'm cooked.

[foodshowxyz]

Spinach and Ham Quiche

Ingredients:

1 unbaked pie crust (9 inches)  

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 shallot, finely chopped

4 cups fresh spinach, roughly chopped

½ cup diced ham

4 large eggs

1 ½ cups heavy cream

½ cup grated Gruyère cheese

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon black pepper

Instructions:

Preheat oven: to 375°F (190°C).

Sauté: Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add shallot and cook until softened, about 2 minutes. Add spinach and cook until wilted, about 3-4 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.  

Assemble: Place the pie crust in a pie dish and crimp the edges. Sprinkle the ham evenly over the bottom of the crust. Top with the spinach mixture.

Whisk: In a bowl, whisk together eggs, heavy cream, Gruyère cheese, salt, and pepper.

Pour: Pour the egg mixture over the spinach and ham.

Bake: Bake for 40-45 minutes, or until the quiche is golden brown and the center is set.

Cool: Let cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing and serving.

Tips:

You can use a store-bought or homemade pie crust.

Feel free to substitute the ham with bacon or sausage.

Other vegetables like mushrooms, bell peppers, or onions can be added for extra flavor.

If you don't have Gruyère cheese, cheddar or Swiss cheese are good alternatives.

You can freeze the quiche before baking. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator and bake as directed.  

[dilf-din]

To be Known (To be Loved)

Frank Castle x f!reader

WC: 2500

Warnings: mentions of blood/gun violence, so much fluff & domestic bliss

Author’s note: so what if I want him to settle down and have a soft life and dote on his girl, don’t worry about it!!

It’s not that you were clumsy or lacked focus. That was the opposite of true. Nobody had an eye for detail like you. That’s what landed you your job as a crime scene analyst. The FBI even contracted you out from time to time when they did jobs in the city. They did today, actually. And though you had been doing this for years, sometimes it still made your stomach churn. And traffic was a bitch coming home, and you forgot to take the ground beef out of the freezer so you were trying to scrape some kind of meal together, chopping what was left of an onion with a too dull knife, and your hand slipped.

It wasn’t too deep, just a perfect slice into the tip of your pointer finger. It stung in the cold stream of the sink you were quick to plunge it under, your eyes already watering from the bruised onion you had been attempting to dice.

Not a big deal, just slap a bandage on it and remember to ask Frank to bring his kit to sharpen your knife set this weekend.

You sniffled and got back to work, sautéing scraps of leftover chicken with some fresh veggies, adding lemon and white wine and garlic and herbs. The air filled with aromatics and the sound of your 80’s playlist.

The tension that spent it days lodged between your shoulder blades was starting to wear away. All you needed to completely feel at peace was the sound of the key in the lock and boots down the hall.

Frank was a lot of things. Dangerous and safe, rough and gentle, commanding and kind. And he was always on time for dinner. Whether he limped to the door dripping blood or showed up early with a bottle of wine and flowers, he was dependable above all.

You didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know he would be there soon. You could feel it in your cells, like the waiting would be soon over.

AC/DC’s fast guitars faded into REO Speedwagon’s Can’t Fight This Feeling, and you found yourself humming along to the ballad. The opening and closing of drawers and the sizzled of the pans drowned out the quiet thump of boots against wood while Frank paused for a second to admire you, a love drunk smile plastered on his face.

He set a paper bag down on the island behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing warm kisses to your cheek, rough stubble scratching your smooth skin. You relaxed into his embrace, eyes drifting shut for a moment as you leaned against his strong chest and inhaled deeply the lingering smell of pine from his shower this morning.

“How’s my baby girl doin’?” Frank hummed into your neck, pressing a trail of kisses to the exposed skin he could get to with the collar of your shirt in the way.

“Got in a fight today,” you sighed dramatically, holding you hand up so he could see your finger wrapped delicately.

“Baby,” he lamented with equal drama, drawing your hand to his mouth to lavish in kisses.

“I’ll kill the guy,” he said sincerely, baby browns boring into yours, holding your hand to his cheek with a tender grip around your wrist.

“He’s in the sink,” you gestured over your shoulder, “If you can remember to sharpen him and his friends this weekend.”

“Course baby doll. Smells good in here,” he peeked over your shoulder at the pans simmering on the stove, “I brought dessert. Cannolis from Tony’s,”

“You’re too good to me,” you clasped your hands over your heart.

It was Friday, which meant Frank was home for the weekend.

His boots by your bed. His body next to yours. Breakfast together and movies on the couch and unlimited snuggles.

“You look tense, everything okay?” he queried as he brought his broad hands up to work out the knots in your shoulders.

“Just a long week,” you shook your head, “All I want is to take a long shower later.”

“I’ll clean up after,” he kissed your cheek once more and gave your shoulders a squeeze before setting off to find something to keep him busy.

He was always tightening screws and changing lightbulbs and air filters, doing whatever he could to make your life easier. Sometimes, on particularly hard weeks, you would unplug your router and call him to come tinker with your internet. Any big or small gesture he could give you, he would jump through hoops to do. You had never felt as secure or adored in any relationship before Frank.

After dinner, and of course your favorite dessert, Frank set off to clean the dishes so you could hop in the shower.

The shower took a few minutes to heat up, so you took your time removing your necklace and the makeup you sported to work. Your cheeks puffed from the scrubbing, and steam was starting to paint the edges of the mirror in front of you.

The last thing you did was peel off the bandage on your finger. The skin was still split badly, deep purple peeking out from under it. It would hurt for a few more days at least, you reasoned.

You left a pile of clothes in front of the mirror, and stepped behind the glass wall of your shower. Another shitty Friday in the books. This would be sure to wash away at least some of your woes.

Your neck turned under the hot stream, letting the water distribute over your hair, and only when you reached up to run your fingers through it were you met with sharp pain.

You hissed and quickly retracted your hand, “Shit.”

The force of the water was like a hundred small knives driving into the exposed nerves. The pain burned hotter than it did when you cut it.

Tentatively, you placed it back in the stream to see if it just needed a second to adjust, but were met with the same intense pain.

You choked down a sob. It was silly, really. When you thought about the loss you saw today and the blood stained carpet, the empty seat at someone’s table tonight, it was ridiculous to be this upset over a shower.

All you wanted was to wash away someone else’s pain and move on with your life, and you started feeling selfish. Words of self ridicule started ringing in your ears, and you pressed your forehead against the cool tile wall, crying softly, willing yourself to pull it together.

You heard the shuffle of Frank entering the adjacent room to sit on the edge of the bed and tug his boots off, thud of his gun on your nightstand, and the unbuckling of his belt.

“Somethin’ wrong?” his low voice rumbled over the running water.

“I can’t wash my hair,” you admitted pathetically, sniffling from the corner, “It stings so bad.”

“You’ve sewed yourself up with no anesthesia and gunshot wounds and I’m sitting here crying about a little cut,” you continued.

You heard the pad of Frank’s feet on the tile as he stepped into the shower and wrapped himself around your wet frame.

“I don’t expect you to be tough as nails, sweetheart,” he murmured into your shoulder, pressing a kiss there, “I love that you’re so tender. You’re too good for all this shit. Stay that way.”

He cradled the sides of your head with two strong hands and turned you to face him, catching your mouth in a long kiss. Frank kissed like he was a starving man and you were the first food he had seen in days. It was enough to make your stomach flutter.

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before gathering your hair into the water and raking his wide fingers through it.

“What are you doing?” you asked with red eyes.

“My girl said she wanted a shower,” his voice came out husky. Brow furrowed with concentration, he smoothed water through every strand, cradling your scalp so gently.

Overcome with emotion, you tucked your forehead into the safety of his neck, nuzzling your nose against his throat as he worked the tangles out of your hair.

The same hands that had snapped necks and pulled triggers were lathering your hair in shampoo and holding your hips close to his.

Your hands wandered his arms and back, grazing over scars and wondering how he got so lucky every time. He must’ve had one hell of a guardian angel. Whatever it was, you felt equally lucky to be here with him, to be his.

The two of you stayed mostly silent. Frank asking the occasional question.

“‘S’that hurt? Is this okay?”

When he finished with your hair, you stepped out of the way so he could quickly wash himself off, reaching for the shampoo you kept on the shelf for him.

Sometimes when he was gone for days at a time, you would wash with his soap and sleep wrapped up in one of his shirts.

Frank drew you into his embrace once more, and you rested easily against his chest with warm water creating pools and streams over the shape of your bodies together.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured.

“I couldn’t,” he said dryly, “My back is killing me.”

“Let’s go lay down, old man,” you teased, reaching to turn the water off.

“Alright smartass,” he laughed with one of his crooked half smiles, following you out of the shower and pinching your ass, eliciting a yelp.

Frank pulled on a pair of joggers and perched on the counter watching as you towel dried your hair. He leaned slightly forward with his hands curled under the edge of the counter. The muscles in his arms and chest were perfectly sculpted, glistening under a light layer of condensation while the steam filtered out of the bathroom.

You chose one of Frank’s black tee shirts and a pair of old cotton undies.

Frank waited patiently while you dabbed on a few creams and moisturizers, fussing with your hair and examining the split ends.

“Beautiful,” he hummed, leaning into your space to steal a quick kiss.

“Almost done,” you reassured, raking a cream through your hair.

“Take your time. I’m enjoying the view,” he smirked, craning his neck to take a peek at your ass while you leaned forward into the mirror.

“Perv,” you teased.

“Only for you, baby,” he smiled.

It was autumn in New York. The sun set quicker and quicker each night. Lazy orange light colored your room with flashes of brown and crimson leaves just outside the window. On your nightstand burned a cinnamon candle, and the rest of the lights were dimmed to set a warm mood. The sun and flickering flame cast wispy shadows on the wall.

On the tv across from your bed, there was a Great British Bake Off marathon playing with the volume low. Frank had pretended not to be interested at first, but it wasn’t long before he was criticizing cakes alongside you. It was something you could both agree on as background noise.

Frank sat straight with his back against the headboard, and you nestled between his legs leaning against his chest.

Callused fingers ran up and down your arms, toying with your hands and occasionally slipping in your sleeve to caress your shoulders. Physical touch was one of your chief love languages, and Frank was fluent. He had spent enough of his life alone and longing that when you were together, he indulged in every touch and kiss.

A deep exhale parted your lips and he shifted slightly.

“Is somethin’ else botherin’ you?” he asked after a considerable length of silence.

You didn’t know how to answer.

“Just seems like more than a cut finger got you in a funk today,” he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, pressing half a kiss there.

“I don’t want to bring work home with me,” you clamped your eyes shut and buried the side of your face into his chest.

“I come home caked in the shit I deal with every day, and not once have you made me feel like it’s an issue to you. You can talk to me,” he said matter of factly at first, but his tone softened into a gentle pleading.

Let me in.

You drew in a shaky breath.

“It was another homicide today. Guy killed his girlfriend. Don’t know why. Shot her in the stomach four times. She was dead when we got there, but her face,” you trailed off, “I’ve just never seen someone look so afraid. I don’t know if he was there when she died, or if she was alone, or what’s sadder.”

He sat in silence, intently listening.

“I know you see this kind of stuff every day, but it still gets to me,” a tear rolled down your cheek and you quickly swiped it with the back of your hand.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, tugging at your shoulder to turn you towards him.

You swung a leg around so you were straddling him, your hands toyed with the chain around his neck.

“Baby, the people I see are bad people. People like your guy that got away today. Seeing the other side always hurts. You’re not weak for that,” he hummed. A strong hand cupped your cheek and turned your head slightly up to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he whispered. His brown eyes were overflowing with sincerity.

You wondered how one man could contain such wild contradictions. Gentleness and violence didn’t often walk hand in hand, but they did when Frank Castle was around.

His voice was like gravel and velvet. His kisses were both hungry and adoring.

With one hand on your face, his other rested at your waist, balling up the tee shirt and rubbing circles against your hipbone with his knuckles.

“You’re good at what you do. ‘S’okay that it weighs on you.”

“You too,” you countered softly, and you saw another level of defense in his eyes melt away, the corners of them softening almost imperceptibly.

“C’mere,” he pulled you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his bare chest burned through the thin barrier of his shirt across your frame. His arms felt like a fortress around you. You had never been afraid since he came into your life.

“You’re my peace, you know that? None of the rest of that bullshit matters to me. This is what matters,” he murmured softly into your ear.

You pushed lightly off his chest to look him in the eye once more, “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

He scoffed and turned his head with a shy grin, pink creeping into his cheeks, “Don’t go around tellin’ people that. Ruin my street cred,” he laughed lightly.

His heart drummed steadily beneath your hand. He made it another week and so did you. And you would keep making, you had vowed. For moments like this.

[the-shrimp-that-fried-rice]

Ok @adderalltheblue its jambalaya time. This is :

SHRIMP'S JAMBALAYA RECIPE

1. Start with the mise en place as usual.

Dice your trinity (onion, pepper, celery). Then skin and debone your chicken thighs, slice your sausage (i went for smoked chorizo since andouille is hard to find in the uk), and peel and devein your shrimp. For the chicken and shrimp, season them with old bay, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper.

2. Next you should sauté the sausage in a large pot. Don't use too much oil, as the fat in the sausage will render and you can use that. Plus it has more flavour.

3. Then take them out and place the chicken in and sear each side till it's got a nice brown colour to it.

4. Once that's done, the final protein you'll want to cook is the shrimp. Only cook it partially so that it doesn't go rubbery when it gets boiled later on

5. Now its time to move onto the veg. Start by putting in the celery first and sauté it for a few minutes before adding the rest, as celery tends to be a bit tougher than onion and pepper. Adding salt at this point will help the veg cook a bit faster too.

Once its sweated properly, you can add your minced garlic, tomato paste, paprika, and a bit of old bay. Sauté a bit longer, and then add a can of chopped tomatoes.

6. Next you're gonna want to add your washed rice in. I don't know exactly how much i used in cups but it looked like half a rice cooker pot. Then add about a litre and a bit of chicken stock

At this point you can add your proteins again, and they will cook through fully with the rice. The chicken becomes especially tender when it gets cooked like this. Season to taste with more cayenne, paprika, salt, garlic powder, and old bay, and allow it to come to a boil. Once at a boil, lower the heat and let it simmer till the broth has reduced and the rice is cooked.

Finally, once it's done it'll look like this. I like my jambalaya creole style so its a bit more saucy than cajun style. And thats my recipe for jambalaya :) i dont claim it to be authentic or anything but this is just how I've always made mine.

[spacelazarwolf]

shakshuka - maghrebi

cookbook: jewish flavors of italy

total time from start to finish: 50 minutes

rating system

difficulty: 2 this recipe required chopped veggies and some sautéing, and it does require a couple of different timed steps (like watching the eggs to make sure they don’t overcook... oops...), but overall it wasn't difficult to make. the recipe did call for harissa, which i found (hechschered) at my local international market, or felfel u ciuma. you can make the harissa yourself, it just takes some extra time. i don't know if you can find the felfel u ciuma in any international markets.

rating: 5 absolutely fucking delicious. 100/10.

this particular recipe comes from the libyan jews of rome. there is a substantial population of libyan jews in rome because of the increasing levels of persecution faced by the jewish community in libya in the 20th century, culminating in violence and pogroms during and after the six day war, until around 6000 libyan jews were airlifted out of libya to rome by the italian navy in 1967. the refugees were forced to leave their homes, their businesses, and most of their possessions behind, but despite these hardships, libyan jews have become an integral part of the roman jewish community.

and i can’t mention libyan jews without mentioning david gerbi, a libyan jew who has spent years trying to restore synagogues and cemeteries in libya and hopes to eventually make libya safe enough for libyan jews to return. so far his attempts have been met with a lot of violent pushback, but b”h someday they will get their home back.

recipe:

shakshuka:

preparation: 15 minutes cooking: 50-55 minutes serves 2-4

ingredients:

3-4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

3-4 garlic cloves, crushed

2 tsp ground cumin or caraway (i used cumin, which is most commonly used, but the author of the cookbook likes to use caraway)

1 tsp paprika

1 tsp felfel u ciuma or harissa

3 red, yellow, or orange peppers; stems, seeds, and white membranes removed, and flesh cut into 5mm (1/4 in)-thick strips

2 ripe vine tomatoes, diced, or 10 cherry tomatoes, halved (optional) (i used 2 cans of diced tomatoes)

500g (1lb 2oz/generous 2 cups) passata (an italian tomato puree, you can use pureed tomatoes but passata is a bit thicker)

1 tbsp finely chopped fresh italian parsley

4 eggs

sea salt and black pepper to taste

bread to serve

many middle eastern cuisines claim this dish as their own. libyan jews are no exception, and those who migrated to italy took it with them. shakshuka has become popular all around the world and today, many of rome's kosher restaurants have it on their menus, reflecting not just the city's large libyan jewish population but also the food of israel, where shakshuka is very well known.

put the oil, garlic, 1 tsp of cumin or caraway, paprika, and felfel u ciuma or harissa (i used harissa and added an extra tsp) in a large, non-stick frying pan, stir and cook over a low heat for 5 minutes. (before this, i sautéed some yellow onions)

add the peppers to the pan, stir, add a pinch each of salt and pepper and cook, covered, over a low to medium heat for about 15 minutes until the peppers start to soften.

add the tomatoes (if using) and toss for 5 minutes, then add the passata with a pinch each of salt and pepper and cook for another 20-25 minutes, covered, and stirring occasionally. remove the lid, add half the parsley, and the second tsp of cumin or caraway, stir and taste for seasoning. you can cook the eggs in the mixture straight away, or make the recipe up to this point and keep the sauce ready in the fridge for up to 3 days.

when you're ready to cook the eggs, make four dips in the sauce (reheating the sauce if you've made it ahead of time) with the back of a spoon and gently break an egg into each one. cover and simmer over a low to medium heat for 6-8 minutes until the egg whites are just set but the yolks are still runny (oops...)

sprinkle with the remaining parsley and, if you like, a little more cumin or caraway. serve hot, ideally with bread.

harissa (from saffron shores):

4 large red bell peppers or pimientos, seeded, deribbed, and cut into pieces

3 large cloves garlic, minced

1 tbsp ground coriander

1 tbsp caraway seeds, toasted and ground

1.5 to 2 tsp cayenne pepper

1 tsp salt

extra virgin olive oil as needed

in a meat grinder, food processor, or blender (you could probably also use mortar and pestle, it would just take longer), grind or puree the bell peppers or pimientos. strain, pressing on the solids with the back of a large spoon. you should have about 3/4 cup puree. stir in the garlic, spices, and salt. add oil for spoonability.

alternate harissa (also from saffron shores):

3 dried ancho chili peppers, soaked in hot water for 1 hour

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 tsp cumin seeds, toasted and ground

1 tsp caraway seeds, toasted and ground (optional)

1 tsp salt

cayenne pepper to taste

extra virgin olive oil for filming

drain the peppers. in a blender, combine the peppers, garlic, and seasonings, puree to a paste (could probably do in a mortar and pestle). pack in a hot sterilized jar and film the top with olive oil. seal and refrigerate for up to 6 weeks.

felfel u ciuma (from jewish flavors of italy):

6 garlic cloves, crushed

1/2 tsp chilli powder

1 tbsp paprika

1/2 tsp sea salt

juice of 1/2 lemon

1/2 tsp ground caraway (optional)

2 tbsp water

simply combine all ingredients in a small bowl and stir well to create a paste.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cooking Basics

Baking and Roasting: Involve applying dry, radiant heat uniformly to food from all sides, using an oven or other indirect heat source

Boil: To heat liquid until bubbles break to the surface; to cook food in hot liquid, like water or stock, at a temperature of at least 212°F (100°C)

Broil: To use direct heat to cook

Coat: To cover entire surface with a mixture, such as flour or bread crumbs

Core: Using a sharp knife, remove the core/seeds of a fruit

Cream: To stir one or more foods until they are soft

Crisp-tender: Describes the “doneness” of vegetables when they are cooked only until tender and remain slightly crisp in texture

Cut in: To mix fat into dry ingredients using a pastry blender, fork or two knives, with as little blending as possible until fat is in small pieces

Dice: To cut into small, square-shaped pieces

Drain: To put food and liquid into a strainer (or colander), or to pour liquid out of a pot by keeping the lid slightly away from the edge of the pan and pouring away from you

Flute: To pinch the edge of dough, such as on a pie crust

Fold: To mix by turning over and over

Fork-tender: Describes the “doneness” of a food when a fork can easily penetrate the food

Frying: Cooks food fully submerged in hot oil

Grilling: Similar to roasting in that it uses radiant heat, but directly and at much higher temperatures, often reaching up to 500°F (260°C)

Knead: To mix by “pushing” and by folding

Marinate: To soak in a seasoned liquid to increase flavor and tenderness

Mince: To cut or chop food into small pieces

Mix: To combine ingredients using a fork or spoon

Oil: To apply a thin layer of vegetable oil on a dish or pan; vegetable spray may be used instead

Poaching: A method similar to boiling, in that it is a moist-heat method achieved in hot liquid, however it is executed at lower temperatures; poaching is done at a temperature between 160°F and 180°F (71-82°C)

Sauté: To cook in a small amount of fat or water, usually on the stove top

Scald: To heat milk until bubbles appear (bubbles should not be “breaking” on the surface)

Shred: To rub foods against a grater to divide into small pieces

Simmer: To cook at a temperature that is just below the boiling point; bubbles form slowly but do not reach the surface; it is achieved at a temperature of around 180°F-200°F (82-93°C)

Steam: To cook over boiling water; a moist-heat method that is achieved by allowing hot vapor generated from liquid to cook the food, and it’s considered one of the gentlest cooking methods

Stir fry: A method of cooking in which vegetables are fried quickly to a crisp-tender state while stirring constantly

Stock: Water in which vegetable(s) or meat has been cooked; stock liquid should be stored in the refrigerator

Sources: 1 2

If these writing notes help with your poem/story, do tag me. Or send me a link. I'd love to read them!

More: On Food More: Word Lists

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Mushroom Quinoa Bowl -

Ingredients:

- 1 cup quinoa

- 2 cups vegetable broth

- 1 tbsp olive oil

- 1 onion, chopped

- 2 cloves garlic, minced

- 1 lb mushrooms, sliced

- 1 red bell pepper, diced

- 1 tsp dried thyme

- Salt and pepper to taste

- Optional toppings: avocado, cherry tomatoes, fresh herbs

Instructions:

1. In a medium saucepan, combine quinoa and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until quinoa is cooked through.

2. In a large skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, sauté for 2-3 minutes until fragrant.

3. Add mushrooms, bell pepper, thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook for 5-7 minutes, or until mushrooms are tender.

4. Divide cooked quinoa into bowls, top with mushroom mixture and any desired toppings.

This mushroom quinoa bowl is a nutritious and satisfying meal that is high in protein, fiber, and vitamins. It is also a great source of antioxidants and minerals like iron. Enjoy!

[cravefoodie]

🌮🍗 Applebee's Chicken Wonton Tacos 🍗🌮

📋 Ingredients:

🐔 Chicken:

2 chicken breasts, finely diced

2 tbsp hoisin sauce

1 tbsp sesame oil

1 tbsp soy sauce

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tsp minced fresh ginger

🥗 Asian-inspired slaw:

1 bag coleslaw

4 green onions, thinly sliced

1 tbsp sesame oil

1 tbsp rice vinegar

1 tbsp soy sauce

1 tbsp honey

🌮 For tacos + toppings:

16 Wonton wrappers

Sweet chili sauce, to serve

Chopped cilantro, to serve

Sesame seeds, to serve

📝 Instructions:

1️⃣ Preheat oven to 375 F. Spray wonton wrappers with cooking spray or brush with a bit of olive/canola oil, then drape over the side of a 9×13 baking dish. Bake for 7-8 minutes, watching closely so they don't burn. Take wonton shells out of the oven, then gently pull them apart while they are still pliable so that they are more easily filled with toppings. Bake another 7-8 minutes until crispy.

2️⃣ Mix diced raw chicken in a large bowl with hoisin sauce, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, and ginger. Heat a large skillet over high heat and sauté chicken for 7-8 minutes, tossing frequently until cooked through.

3️⃣ Meanwhile, mix ingredients for coleslaw together in a large bowl.

4️⃣ Add chicken mixture to wonton shells, then top with coleslaw, drizzle with sweet chili sauce, and sprinkle with cilantro and sesame seeds. Serve and enjoy!

💡 Notes:

​

◻️ Substitute the chicken breasts for boneless skinless chicken thighs if preferred.

◻️ Make your own sweet chili sauce using a combination of hot sauce and honey for a personalized touch.

◻️ Add in extra toppings like grated carrot or minced mushrooms for more variety.

◻️ For a low-carb option, use lettuce wraps instead of wonton wrappers.

[inoreuct]

What if, in some circumstances which I cannot even think of, Sanji cannot cook himself and has to tell Zoro what to do.

And Zoro's sword skills are NOT equal to his knife skills 😭

Sanji also would use fancy chef vocabulary to give commands like "now sauté those onions until they're godlen-brown" or something and Zoro's like da fuck's a co-lander. why would you need like 5 different pans.

BADABING BADABOOM HERE YOU GO REG MY DEAR technically pre-rs but they act like they’ve been married decades. ANYWAYS enjoy 🤭🤭

Zoro swore as the knife slipped again, skidding flat against the chopping board with a dull scrape that made him wince. 

In hindsight, this was all the stupid cook’s fault. Bastard just had to go and break his arm; Sanji had tried to do things one-handed for a while before he’d evidently gotten fed up and stuck his head out the galley door to scream for Zoro to help with lunch at top volume, apparently under the assumption that since Zoro was a master swordsman he’d be able to handle knives.

And by all rights, he should. He was the demon pirate hunter. He carried his best friend’s dream like a talisman in his pocket. He wasn’t going to let himself be bested by a fucking vegetables and a knife.

But Zoro was quite certain that barring his sense of direction, he had never been quite this bad at anything in his entire existence. 

The garlic had been miniscule, the celery had been too fucking slippery, the onions had made his eyes burn, and now this stupid carrot kept trying to run away from him. He could handle rough chops, sure; but when Sanji was being all picky about— 

“I said medium dice, marimo, not mutilate.”

“I don’t know what that fucking means, shithead,” Zoro gritted, not even bothering to turn around where Sanji was sitting at the dining table. He re-aligned the knife and felt inexplicably betrayed when it slipped again, slicing diagonally into the carrot. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken off a finger yet. 

He felt stupid. Awkward and useless and out of his element, it was just cooking, for fuck’s sake—

“Marimo.” 

“What,” he snapped, fingers tightening around a wooden handle. Sanji’s tone had gone soft around the edges and it rankled him, made him feel irrationally angry like a tiger pacing around in its cage, trapped and seething—

“This one’s on me,” Sanji murmured, coming around to hover by his side, something Zoro couldn’t identify in the set of his face. “Shouldn’t have assumed that you’d be good with knives just because you’re good with swords.”

The words sent a wave of panic through Zoro, stomach dropping fast enough that he ran his mouth. A need to please he hadn’t felt since he was a child. Desperation not to disappoint. “Shut the fuck up, I am, I just—” He snapped his jaw shut, pressing his teeth together hard. “Just… Give me a minute to figure it out.”

“You’re already doing better than I was, when I started,” Sanji said lightly, hair falling across his face as he tipped his head. 

“You were a child,” he ground out. The knife clattered as he put it down to shake out his hands. “S’not saying much.” 

The cook hummed, strangely gentle. “Still. It’s alright—”

“I don’t want your pity.”

And, oh. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Pity. Zoro felt like a dumb kid again, and it was so much worse because it was Sanji. And he didn’t want to think about the implications of that, so he sneered, “Don’t look down on me, shitty cook. You and your fancy-ass cooking terms and your hundred and one pans and—”

Sanji cut him off with a bark of a laugh, tossing his head back. His left arm was immobilised in a sling, tucked close to his body as he moved behind Zoro and reached around him to pick the knife up again. “Your brains must really be full of moss if you think I’m looking down on you. Come on.” He offered Zoro the handle, and the swordsman didn’t need to look to know that Sanji was smiling over his shoulder. “One last try.”

He worked his jaw for a second, and huffed through his nose. “I fucking swear, curly, if I get cut—”

“You won’t,” Sanji replied, resolute as he watched Zoro take the knife. 

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not stupid and I’m not careless, especially not with you.” 

The last part had been a little quieter, riding on a rushed breath, and Zoro eyed the cook pensively as slender fingers wrapped around his hand.

“Here. Like this.” 

With Sanji’s help, he cut the carrot into lengthwise sticks and then neat cubes, chopping up a few more before dumping the whole lot into a bowl with most of what he’d already cut. Sanji shifted away, poking a chopstick into the oil he’d left to heat.

“See the bubbles?” he murmured, peering down into the pot. “That’s how you check if it’s hot enough.” He twisted one of the knobs down before grabbing the vegetables and dumping them in, shifting the pieces around with a wooden spatula as they sizzled gently. “This is a mirepoix,” he said, pronouncing it meer-pwah. “It forms the flavour base of a lot of dishes. The aim is to use low heat, cook it down really slow— so that it doesn’t burn and you bring out the sweetness.” 

He was speaking softly enough that it could have been to himself, but the commentary was obviously for Zoro’s benefit, and Zoro. Did not like how that was making him feel at all. 

They were quiet for a while as Sanji did his thing, and the swordsman crossed his arms as he leaned his hip against the counter. The sun filtering in through the window was lighting Sanji’s hair up gold, washing his features in a subtle glow that emphasised the softness of his expression, relaxed and so entirely in his element that it made Zoro’s chest ache. Made something press up beneath his lungs, made it hard to breathe, and it ached.

Impervious to his inner turmoil, Sanji continued, stirring frequently as the galley started to smell really good. “When the onion turns translucent, that’s the sweet spot—” The chopped (more mushed, if Zoro was inclined to be honest) garlic from earlier went in with a vicious sizzle, then a few dashes of different sauces and a good pour of chicken stock. “Could you get the black pepper?” 

Zoro grunted, grabbing the grinder from the corner and putting a few good cracks into the pot as Sanji added salt, stirred one last time, and propped the lid on partway. “That’s it?” 

“That’s it,” Sanji confirmed, smirking, but not unkindly. “Once that simmers down it’ll be our soup, and I’ll just have to cook some noodles. I was planning for mussels in a garlic butter white wine reduction and seared scallops with this delicious spiced pomegranate and herb glaze, but— I think that might have killed you.” Something must have shown on Zoro’s face, because the cook laughed, bright and easy. “You did good, marimo, all things considered. I’d probably be horrid at sword fighting. We’re even.”

Zoro scowled, fighting back against the spark that flared in the depths of his chest at that thought. Sparring with Sanji, in his element, giving the cook shit for it but also helping. Teaching. “Hurry up and get better, and we’ll see.” 

Sanji groaned, rolling his eyes even as he chuckled. “You’re gonna kick my ass, aren’t you.”

Maybe. But even more than that… He thought about how Sanji had held his hand over the knife, patient but not condescending even though he could have been, the skin of his wrist cool against Zoro’s forearm. The look on his he face as he did what he loved and the way it had made something warm bloom behind Zoro’s sternum. The swordsman let his teeth peek in a lazy grin as his chin tipped up; an entire challenge. Half of the bite. “We’ll see.”

fin.

[wavypotatochips]

and for the mbappe recognition, can I request kylian's brother ethan feeling upset bc of how media pressures him to be like his older brother but he doesn't want to worry his family so he keeps it a secret, for some reason he feels like he can open up to kylian's gf and she gives him a pep talk saying he's gonna make his own legacy and accidentally kylian overhears it and feels so happy his little brother trusts her and how nice she is to him that he falls in love with her even more. u can give it ur own spin, this is just an idea, thank u in advance 💓

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader

Word Count : 1.5k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: SLAAAAAY MORE MBAPPE RECOGNITION!!! Of course I don't mind writing about anyone, but more Neymar and Mbappe please c; teehee Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads will mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience c’: ♥

Kylian asked you earlier in the day if you would mind picking up his younger brother from futebal practice because he wouldn't be able to, and of course you didn't mind. When it was time to pick him up from futebal practice, you did so and brought him home. Considering how much Ethan loved to stay to himself, you did not give his abnormally quiet conduct much attention, but you could still sense something was off. Ethan is currently in the living room scrolling through his phone as you are currently preparing dinner.

Ethan fiddles with his hair as he lets out another sigh seeing a sports channel talk about his performances and comparing him to his brother once more. Ethan is proud of his brother and will always be his number 1 supporter, but he hates how he always gets compared to Kylian. He especially hates when grown men on the sports channel talk about how he isn't good and he would never be like his brother. He tries his hardest to ignore the harsh criticism, but when you constantly hear about it- it tends to build up until you cannot take it anymore. This has been going on for a while now, and the one time he tried to talk to one of his teammates who he considered a best friend, he told him to just ‘try and brush it off’ as the media will always be negative. Well, he tried to listen to his best friend but as a 16 year old, it's not surprising that it can not simply be ignored when it feels as if the public only likes you because they think they have the potential to see your brother. He felt as if when people look at him, all they think about is Kylian Mbappe, not Ethan Mbappe. He begins to contemplate if he should talk to you or not because he does not want to worry you, but he knew you were someone he could rely on. You and his brother have been dating for 3 years now, and anytime there was a minor convince- you always helped him no matter what. He shuts off his phone, deciding it is best to talk to you and begins to make his way into the kitchen.

You were preparing dinner as he was debating what to do. You put on some music and begin to prep your ingredients, carefully chopping and measuring everything. The kitchen smells amazing as you sauté garlic and onions in olive oil, adding in diced tomatoes and a sprinkle of spices.

Next, you start on the main course. You're making grilled chicken marinated in a savory mixture of soy sauce, honey, and ginger. You pat the chicken dry and place it on the grill, watching as it sizzles and cooks to perfection. While the chicken is cooking, you start on the side dish. You're making roasted sweet potatoes with a hint of cinnamon and brown sugar. You slice the sweet potatoes into thin rounds, toss them in a mixture of spices and oil, and place them in the oven to bake.

You can hear Ethan's footsteps when he enters the kitchen, indicating that the music was not played at an excessive volume. "It smells nice," he says as he takes a seat on the bar stool. You smile hearing his compliment, "I'm making chicken and roasted potatoes with asparagus for us!  Although your brother is supposed to arrive home later than expected, I don't think we should go hungry until then, am I right?," you chuckle. He scratches the side of his head and nods in agreement before saying, "Hey ummm... Can we talk for a moment, Y/N.... ,"  he murmurs the final phrase, "There's been something that just has been bothering me." 

 "Of course," you say, sensing that he wants to open up to you about something personal. 

 "It's just that...I feel like I'm always being compared to Kylian, you know? Everyone's always asking me if I'm going to be as good as him or just the media constantly nagging my every move. If I mess up just once I just get so much hate, and it's like...I don't know if I can live up to that."

 You nod sympathetically. "I can imagine that's a lot of pressure. But you don't have to be Kylian, you know? You can be your own player." 

"But that's the thing," Ethan says, looking frustrated. "I want to be my own player, but it feels like everyone's always talking about how I compare to him. Even I do it to myself sometimes."

 "Well, you're not alone," you say, trying to reassure him. "Lots of people compare themselves to others, but it's not always a helpful way to think. You're talented in your own right, and you don't have to measure up to anyone else's standards.” 

Ethan seems to relax a little, nodding along. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But it's hard not to think about it when it's all people ever talk about."

"I get that," you say as you walk over to grab two plates from the counter. "But you should focus on your own progress and improvement, not what other people think or say.  And even though you're young, you have such a huge opportunity to keep on learning and growing as a player. You have so much potential and you're constantly improving."

"But I keep making mistakes," he says with a sigh as he watches you beginning to prep the plates.

"Mistakes are a part of learning.You're going to make mistakes, but that doesn't mean you're not good enough. It means you're growing and learning. You have so much potential, and I believe in you. Just keep practicing, keep pushing yourself, and don't worry about what anyone else thinks or says. You're doing great." You speak while you put food on both plates, along with a fork and a knife, on each plate. 

 He stays quiet for a moment as he takes in the words that you tell him. A small smile appears on his face, seeming to feel a little better. "Thanks. I guess I just need to work harder."

You take both plates and set them both on the kitchen island, moving one over to Ethan as you explain, "You don't need to work harder, you just need to believe in yourself."

"And if you're really upset about it, you can always talk to Kylian about it," you say as you start chopping the roasted chicken into smaller pieces. " We both know how unfavorable the media can be toward him, and I am not a futebol star like you, so my advice may not be the greatest."

Ethan looks thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess I could talk to him about it. Thanks for listening, though. I feel like I can trust you.” He takes a bite of the asparagus.

 "Of course I'm always here if you need to talk! And even though I'm not the best futebol player, if you ever need someone to talk to or to practice with, I'm here for you. I mean who knows, maybe I'll just cross you up." You both laugh, knowing that you could definitely not do that.

When you two were eating the delicious supper you had prepared, neither of you realized that Kylian had arrived home earlier than intended and had heard all you said.

Kylian quietly opens the front door of his house and makes his way to the kitchen. As he approaches, he can hear the sound of your voice, and his younger brother's voice responding. Curiosity piqued, he peeks around the corner and sees you sitting with his brother, giving him some advice and offering some kind words. He doesn't want to interrupt, so he decides to listen in. As he hears you speak, he can't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for you. You have always been a kind and caring person, but to see you taking the time to give his brother such motivational words is truly inspiring. Kylian takes a step back and leans against the wall, listening in to the conversation. He hears you tell his brother that he's capable of anything he sets his mind to, that he has so much potential, and that he doesn't need to compare himself to anyone else. Kylian can see the look of appreciation on his brother's face, and he can feel his own love for you grow even stronger. He thinks about how lucky he is to have you in his life, and how grateful he is for all the times you have encouraged him and supported him. He thinks about how you have always been there for him, through thick and thin, and how you always believed in him even when he didn't believe in himself.

In that moment, Kylian knows that he's found someone truly special, someone who brings out the best in him and in those around her. He knows that he'll always be grateful for your love and support, and he can't wait to see where your journey together will take you two.

[aesethewitch]

Beef Stew Recipe - Potion of Fortitude

Whether it's been an exhausting week, a frigid winter's day, or just a stressful time, few things are more comforting than a hearty bowl of stew. I make this beef stew for myself whenever I need a true pick-me-up or when I'm preparing for an in-depth magical working. It provides lasting energy, warmth, and strength.

Plus, this recipe is scalable - make a ton and freeze it to enjoy for weeks or just make a little bit for one meal. The measurements below are approximate; measure with your heart.

Ingredients:

Chuck roast, cut to half-inch cubes (you can get pre-chunked stew meat, which is what I typically get)

Flour, enough to coat the beef

Salt and Pepper (about 1 tsp salt & 1/2 tsp pepper), for seasoning the beef coating

2 tablespoons Unsalted Butter

1 Onion, diced

2 Large Potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch to one-inch cubes

2 Carrots, peeled and cut into rounds

5-6 Cloves of Garlic, finely diced

4 cups Beef Broth

Herbs of your choice, such as: Sage, Thyme, Marjoram, Celery Seed, Bay, Chili Flakes

Additional veggies of your choice, such as: Parsnips, Turnips, Bok Choy

Salt and Pepper to taste

Instructions:

Mix together your flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl. Toss the beef chunks in the mixture to coat. This will create a nice brown crispiness on the outside.

In your stew pot, sauté your flour-coated beef until browned on all sides. Remove from the pot and set aside.

Add more oil to your pot and cook your onion until translucent. If you don't mind soft carrots in your stew, add them now and cook until just starting to soften and brown. (Note: I often leave the carrots until after the potatoes are nearly cooked through because I don't like the texture of fully-cooked carrots.)

Once your onions are translucent and your carrots have started to soften/brown, toss in your butter and scrape the bottom of the pot. You want to get all those beautiful, delicious brown bits back into the mixture. You can add a little water if you need help loosening the bits.

Add your garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

Put your beef back into the pot (along with any drippings from the plate/bowl you placed it in). Pour your broth over everything and give it all a good stir.

Toss your potatoes into the pot. Bring it all to a boil and reduce your heat to let it simmer.

Add your herbs and spices. I recommend salt, pepper, sage, thyme, celery seed (or salt), and bay. If you like it spicy, you can throw in a bit of chili powder or flakes.

Simmer for at least one hour or until your potatoes are soft and your beef becomes tender, stirring occasionally.

If your stew isn't thick enough by the time your potatoes are done, you can make a cornstarch slurry by combining one tablespoon of cornstarch with two tablespoons of water. Pour the slurry into the stew and let it cook until thickened to your desired consistency.

Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with crusty bread, veggie side dishes, or whatever else you like.

Optional magic you can include:

As mentioned above, I often use this recipe to bolster or replenish my energy before or after an intense magical working. It also works for physical exertions - I made this for a group of my partner's friends while they were moving heavy furniture to a new apartment, and it gave them all the energy to move everything in one night!

This stew has an intense comforting effect. If someone I know has been working hard, stressing out, or hasn't been feeding themselves properly, I'll make this for them to help them remember to take care of themselves. It's rejuvenating, hearty, and full of love.

Depending on the herbs you choose to include, this could also be a powerful protection spell. Especially in the cold months, I use this as a protective ward against the cold exhaustion that pulls at the body and mind.

Pop a bit of chili in this spell to both speed up its effects and cast out negativity! Nothing clears the sinuses like a nose full of spice, and nothing clears the body of bad vibes like a good dose of chili flake.

Like many of my spell recipes, this one is most effective when it's shared. Give a bowl to your friends, your family, your neighbors, whoever. It makes a wonderful offering to house spirits or ancestors.

If you make this recipe, please let me know your thoughts! And if you enjoy this or my other posts, please consider dropping a couple dollars in my Ko-Fi tip jar!

Happy cooking, witches! 🍲

[foodshowxyz]

Home baked calzone

Ingredients:

For the Dough:

500 grams of all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting

1 teaspoon of salt

7 grams of instant yeast (1 sachet)

1 tablespoon of olive oil, plus extra for greasing

300 ml of warm water

For the Filling:

250 grams of ricotta cheese

100 grams of mozzarella cheese, shredded

50 grams of Parmesan cheese, grated

100 grams of cooked ham, diced

2 teaspoons of dried oregano

Salt and pepper to taste

Optional: other fillings like sautéed vegetables, cooked sausage, or pepperoni slices

For Brushing:

1 egg, beaten

A pinch of salt

Sesame or poppy seeds (optional)

For Serving:

Fresh basil or parsley, chopped

A handful of cherry tomatoes, halved

Instructions:

1. Prepare the Dough:

In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour and salt.

In a separate bowl, mix the yeast with warm water and let it sit for a few minutes.

Make a well in the center of the flour and pour in the olive oil and yeast mixture.

Gradually mix the flour into the wet ingredients until a dough begins to form.

Knead the dough on a floured surface for about 10 minutes, or until it's smooth and elastic.

Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a cloth, and let it rise in a warm place for about 1 hour or until it has doubled in size.

2. Prepare the Filling:

In a bowl, combine the ricotta, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheese.

Add the diced ham and oregano, then season with salt and pepper. Mix well.

3. Assemble the Calzones:

Once the dough has risen, punch it down and divide it into 4 equal pieces.

On a floured surface, roll out each piece into a circle about 20 cm in diameter.

Spread a portion of the filling on one half of each circle, leaving a margin around the edge for sealing.

Fold the dough over the filling to create a half-moon shape. Pinch and roll the edges together to seal.

Transfer the calzones to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

4. Prepare for Baking:

Preheat your oven to 220°C (428°F).

Brush the tops of the calzones with the beaten egg. Sprinkle with a pinch of salt and seeds if using.

With a sharp knife, make a few small slits on the top of each calzone to allow steam to escape.

5. Bake the Calzones:

Bake in the preheated oven for 15-20 minutes, or until they are golden brown and the filling is bubbly.

[flyingwargle]

osamu knows suna is at his door, has been for the last ten minutes. he refuses to let him in.

he can hear the raucous knocks while buried under his thin blankets. unread notifications pile on his phone, probably from his boyfriend to let him in, or his brother telling him to let his boyfriend in.

they didn’t have a fight or anything; osamu just isn’t in the right state of mind to meet him. the end of the semester is always stressful, and suna visits every time to care for him. osamu loves him for that, but just this once, he wishes he wasn’t here, was held back by practice, or something. he doesn’t want to be seen like this, barely hanging on a thread–

the lock turns. the door clicks open. osamu jolts upright. how the hell did he–

suna catches his eye, studio apartment and all. he doesn’t look surprised, lazy eyes narrowed with the faintest spark of concern. his backpack hangs over one shoulder, plastic bag in hand. “i knew you were ignoring me.”

“how’d ya–“

he lifts a familiar set of keys with his pinky. “you can thank your brother.” suna pockets them, turns to take groceries out from his bag. “i’ll start lunch. you can go back to moping, or whatever.”

“rin–“

osamu draws back when his boyfriend shoots him a look. “i’ll cook. i learned from the best, after all.”

“no,” he mutters as suna turns his back. “i’m not.” bold of suna to say that when the aforementioned best bombed his cooking assessment and nearly sent one of his instructors to the hospital because of his mistake. not to mention what his mentor said the other day, still raw and painful to touch.

suna moves through his kitchenette with ease – he learned how to tango with the pots and pans, cutting boards and knives, bowls and plates. he drops a handful of vegetables in the sink to wash, prepares them one at a time. curious, osamu wraps a blanket around himself and shuffles to his side, watching him dice a green bell pepper, onion, and mushroom. from the fridge, he removes a package of sausages to dice along with slices of bacon. on the stove, a pot of water boils, and suna spreads spaghetti noodles around the rim. a bottle of ketchup remains on the counter.

of course he’s cooking napolitan. it’s the first dish that osamu ever taught him.

“making sure i don’t burn your kitchen down?” suna teases, glancing at him.

he could, and osamu would blame the oil instead. “nah, i trust ya.”

after the noodles are cooked, he strains them, leaves them aside while he sautés the protein and vegetables, adding a generous amount of ketchup. tossing some butter in, he adds the noodles, combines it altogether. osamu hands him a pair of plates, lets him dress the dishes by twisting the spaghetti with his tongs, artfully placing the sautéed vegetables and meat on the sides, and then grates cheese on top. suna grins at him. “lunch is served.”

osamu clears the dining table of his books and laptop so they can eat. it’s always refreshing to eat someone else’s food, someone who isn’t trained in the art of spices, knows the science behind boiling the optimal pasta, isn’t worried about pleasing a variety of palates and tastes…

“hey.” he blinks, suddenly aware of the hand over his. suna looks at him with a frown. “is something wrong?”

“sorry.” osamu swallows the lump in his throat, tries to enjoy his meal. “just stressed. ya know, it’s the end of the semester, an’ all. what ‘bout ya? don’t ya have plans for the off-season?”

“yeah, making sure my boyfriend is cared for.” suna doesn’t look away. “you’re about to cry.”

“no, i ain’t.”

“’samu, i know the look. what happened?”

this is why he didn’t want him here, but at the same time, he does. osamu takes in a breath, feels the familiar pressure behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest. “i bombed my assessment yesterday.”

“i’m sorry. i’m sure you did great–“

“no, rin, i almost put one of the instructors in the hospital ‘cause i used somethin’ they were allergic to. we all knew beforehand but i forgot, an’-“ he closes his eyes. the first tear drops. “but that’s not even the worse thing. ya know, my mentor? i looked up ta him so much, but when i told ‘im i wanted ta open my own restaurant, he just…he…”

i admire your determination, miya, but it’ll be impossible, especially with onigiri. it might be a simple dish, but it’s easy to mess up, and although you’re diligent, i don’t think you have the skills for it.

did he really have to say that, after a year and a half of culinary school? literally a semester away from graduating, from scouting locations for his shop, from fulfilling his dream? now, all he can hear is his mentor’s sigh and apologetic tone. all he can see is his pinched expression and weak smile. i don’t think you have the skills for it.

suna wraps him in a hug. “i’m so sorry. that bastard doesn’t know anything.”

“what if it’s true?” osamu whispers. “i almost poisoned someone. i almost failed business management. i almost chopped my lab partner’s hand off–“

“’samu, you said it yourself – almost. but you didn’t, and you’re aware of what you did wrong. plus, who cares if you suck at numbers? i said i’ll help, and so did your brother, and gin, aran – even kita-san. we’re all here to help.” suna smiles at him. “we help each other with our dreams, did you forget?”

they all attended aran’s debut match. they were subjects for ginjima’s kinesiology projects. they bought all of kita’s rice stock on the first day of opening his business. and now, it’s his turn.

“i shouldn’t hafta rely on ya,” osamu murmurs. “a business owner should be able ta do everything themselves–“

“that’s not right, and you know it. just like volleyball, it takes more than one to be successful, and if you struggle, there’s always someone you can ask to help. that’s where i come in, yeah?”

“yeah. thanks, rin. i really appreciate ya.”

“and you mean more to me than words can ever measure. eat your food and let’s look at properties together.”

cuddled on his bed with his laptop shared between them, it eases the doubt in osamu’s heart, receded for another day. it has a way of manifesting at his most vulnerable moments, but he knows that when it happens, suna will be there for him, and reassure him that everything will turn out fine because he isn’t alone.

[petermorwood]

Sausage Goulash...

...as mentioned in passing here, and requested by @aqueerpolysocialist.

This was a recipe seen and transcribed nearly 30 years ago, back when dinosaurs walked the earth and German TV channels (here ZDF) were available on Irish / UK satellite.

I have a feeling it was originally a Very Economical Dish, mostly potatoes and onions with a lot less (but more strongly flavoured / smoked) sausage and lots of pepper or the hottest paprika available.

It also makes a very good soup by dicing the potatoes / slicing the sausages smaller and more suitable for a spoon, and increasing the amount of liquid to at least 500ml / 1 pint.

I haven’t tried making either goulash or soup with a dark beer like Guinness or Köstritzer, but my Mind Palate suggests it would be rather good.

Ingredients:

3 medium onions, chopped

4 cloves garlic, chopped

1 oz / 30g butter

1 lb / 500g smoked sausage (any type) sliced

2¼ lb / 1kg potatoes, cut into 1-inch / 2.5 cm cubes

2-3 Tbsp hot paprika (or regular paprika + cayenne to taste) *

2 tsp dried marjoram

2 tsp crushed caraway seed

12 f1.oz / 350 ml water, stock or beer

Salt & freshly ground pepper

* ETA - depending on what paprika is used, this dish can be very (or too) hot; check the heat of your paprika before using this much of it!

Method:

Melt the butter in a heavy casserole, add the onions and garlic and cook over medium heat until softened and just beginning to colour, then remove with a slotted spoon.

Put the sliced sausage into the casserole and sauté until brown, then remove with a slotted spoon.

Put the cubed potatoes into the casserole and sauté until the edges begin to brown.

Return the onions and sausage to the casserole, add the paprika, marjoram, caraway and liquid and stir well. Cover and cook over low heat for about 40 minutes, or until potatoes are done. Uncover for the last 10 minutes so the sauce thickens.

Taste, then adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. Depending on the type of sausage and heat of paprika, little or none may be required.

Serve garnished with sour cream and snipped chives, either alone or over buttered noodles. Dust with extra paprika if desired. Depending on the thickness of the sauce, a spoon as well as a fork may be needed

Variations (besides using different types of sausage):

Fry chopped smoked bacon in the butter before adding the onions at step 1.

Add a seeded, chopped green pepper (or, as in the photo, some chopped pickled red pepper) with the other ingredients at step 4.

Stir the sour cream into the goulash at step 5 and garnish instead with croutons or fried onions.

[wellntruly]

Beets & Kale Recovery Bowl

I want to share a hearty salad I came up with a year or so ago, as every time I make it I think, dang this is so good, and its nutrition benefits are real big, especially when you're healing up from things. The combination of the earthy sweetness of the beets with the salty sharpness of the cheese, the nuttiness of the farro, and just that dark greenness of the kale really works for me, and maybe it will for you too.

What’s in here:

2 bunches lacinato (Tuscan) kale | high in iron, which your body uses to make hemoglobin to carry oxygen around

Rinse, cut out the stiff stems, and chop the leaves into bite-sized pieces. Sauté in olive oil over medium heat, with salt to taste, until softened but still with some body.

3 to 4 medium beets | high in folate, a B vitamin that your body uses to generate cells

Peel, chop into 1/2 inch dice, toss with olive oil & salt, and roast in an 8x8 glass baking dish (I’ve also used a glass pie plate) covered tightly with foil for 20 minutes at 425 F. Remove foil and roast uncovered for 10 minutes more to caramelize a bit.

1 cup dry farro (wheat berries) | high in fiber, which your digestive system loves

Rinse like it’s rice, and simmer in salted water for about 30 minutes uncovered. Drain well.

6 ounces Beecher’s Flagship cheese (or any semi-hard cheese, I just love this one!) | source of protein and high in calcium

Crumble or cut into little cubes

3 ounces hazelnuts | source of protein and high in good fats, which your body needs to properly utilize all the nutrients above

Toast and chop

Good olive oil | ditto about those fats

For drizzling at the end

This will be enough for about four servings, and easily keeps in the fridge for multiple days worth of meals. I put the kale and farro together, but store the beets separately so they don’t turn everything pink (yet), and add the cheese and hazelnuts after re-warming the rest in a lightly oiled pan. Best warm or at room temperature.

[wizzard890]

Hey guys I invented a soup to use up all the leftovers in my fridge last night, and it turned out insanely, blisteringly good, so I’m gonna call it Emily’s Vaguely Thai-Inspired “Oops Everything Is About To Go Bad” Soup, and tell you how to make it.

INGREDIENTS (note: don’t be precious about the amounts, adjust as needed, I’m not your mom. you’re an artist and the heavy-bottomed dutch oven is your canvas)

three cups of any hearty mushroom, sliced (I used white and baby bella)

a stalk of lemongrass, bashed to reveal the tender insides and cut in two inch lengths

five large carrots, diced in rounds

one knob of ginger, around the size of your thumb, minced

three garlic cloves, minced

one red thai chili, diced

one large yellow onion, diced

fresh cilantro

3 cups veggie stock 

3 cups chicken stock 

(you can use better than bullion in water for either of these in a pinch, and if you want to bulk up the veggie stock, add all the trash bits of the onions and garlic and carrots and ginger and the tough outer leaves of the lemongrass with some peppercorns and star anise and let that puppy simmer for like ten minutes before straining.)

two giant handfuls of any sturdy leafy green, like bok choi, kale, or spinach

three eggs

one lime

fish sauce

coconut or brown sugar

frozen dumplings of any kind

gochujang paste

INSTRUCTIONS

add a few tablespoons of neutral oil to a large soup pot over medium heat

once the oil is shining, add the garlic, thai chili and ginger and sauté until fragrant

add the lemongrass and the onions, and continue to sauté until the onions are soft and translucent

in go the carrots, the zest of one lime, and three heaping tablespoons of your gochujang, stir stir stir until everything is tender and the paste has worked its way into all the nooks and crannies. 

pour in the strained veggie stock, bring to a boil, then down to a simmer. cover, and continue to simmer for ten minutes.

remove the lid, stir the reduced broth, and add your mushrooms and your chicken stock. make sure it’s all well combined. 

we’re going to start adjusting the flavor now: add two tablespoons of fish sauce, and a tablespoon of coconut sugar (brown will do if that’s what you have).

cover and simmer for another 10 minutes.

add more gochujang plus the juice from your naked lime and chopped cilantro to taste.

now you add your frozen dumplings and your greens and just keep an eye on them until they cook through. 

meanwhile, break the eggs into a bowl and scramble them with a fork. pour them into the soup in an even, unbroken stream while you stir. this will give you those pretty egg-drop ribbons.

serve in deep bowls and garnish with more cilantro and lime juice.

NOTES: like I said above, nearly everything in this recipe can be substituted, save for the aromatics, and if you’re a vegetarian you can just double the amount of veggie stock, instead of adding chicken stock.