#oat flatbread

[petermorwood]

DD also posted about these...

...and mentioned how to make (if you can't get) oat flour:

To start with: If you have trouble sourcing fine-ground oat flour, but do have access to an electric coffee grinder or spice grinder, you can use that to grind down either flaked (oatmeal-style) oats or pinhead (porridge) oats until you have enough flour to make up 230g/2.5 cups. Please note that blenders are no good for this job; neither are food processors. (Also, a note here for the gluten-intolerant: to make sure you're safe from cross-contamination, please make sure you're sourcing your oats, either rolled or as flour, from a processor that does not also handle wheat in its factory.)

*****

For a long while kitchen fine-grinding duty here used a Braun coffee-mill like this one, which has a fixed cup and blade (i.e. it can't come apart for cleaning).

Despite that cleaning limitation and its small capacity, the Braun has in its time ground coffee, sugar, rice, oats and various spices.

On one occasion the spice was a couple of dried Habanero chillis, which a couple of days later and thanks to inadequate brushing-out of residue, resulted in one of the hottest cups of coffee I've ever tasted.

Lesson learned...

*****

The best thing for milling purposes is an attachment we bought for our Kenwood. It's a "Compact Chopper / Grinder" which includes several lidded jars.

Just the business for herbs, spices, nuts and of course turning grain into flour. As the second photo shows, it comes apart for cleaning, and while I'm not saying that was a main selling point, it was Well Up There. ;->

We carried out some experiments the other day before posting this, testing flaked and pinhead oats first in the standard blender which came with the Kenwood, then in the small grinder.

(Our Magimix / Cuisinart food processor wasn't included; it's a chopper-kneader-slicer-grater, not a grinder, and we already knew from past experience that it wouldn't work with this.)

We confirmed at once what D has put in her recipe: an ordinary blender - which includes free-standing ones - won't work either. It's meant for things that are, or become, liquid and flow down onto the blades.

Neither kind of oats would do this without repeated thumping of the blender jug, and sometimes not even then since (I think) the plastic jug was getting static-sticky. Would a glass jug have worked better? We don't have one, so don't know.

The small grinder, however, was as I said before: just the business.

First with the flaked / rolled oats; about 20-30 seconds was enough.

Then with the pinhead oats; these needed a bit longer, 30-40 seconds, to create equally fine flour.

Of course attachments aren't much use without the Big Machine they attach to, so anyone interested in small-scale flour milling could get an inexpensive coffee-grinder with a removable cup (easy cleaning, yet again).

I've seen variants with two cups, one for grinding hard things like grains and seeds, the other for chopping softer things like fresh herbs.

If one of those had been available Way Back When, we might have got it instead of the little Braun.

That said, TBH I doubt anything "inexpensive" bought nowadays will still be working after 30+ years, as the Braun has done.

And Habanero coffee is still an optional extra... :->

Two kinds: the basic crisp thin oatcake, and a baking-powder raised variant.

[flavorcraftrecipes]

Cottage Cheese Flatbread: Soft, Savory, and Gluten-Free 🍞 Ingredients: 1 cup cottage cheese (blended until smooth) 2 large eggs 1 cup almond flour (or oat flour for a different texture) 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp garlic powder (optional) 1/2 tsp salt 1/4 tsp black pepper 1 tbsp olive oil (for brushing) 1 tbsp fresh herbs (optional – parsley, basil, or chives) Instructions: Preheat Oven: Set to 375°F (190°C) and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Blend Wet Ingredients: In a bowl, mix or blend cottage cheese and eggs until smooth. Add Dry Ingredients: Stir in almond flour, baking powder, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper. Mix until a sticky dough forms. Shape the Flatbread: Spread the mixture onto the prepared baking sheet, forming a thin, even layer. Bake: Place in the oven for 18-22 minutes, or until golden brown and firm to the touch. Brush & Serve: Lightly brush with olive oil and sprinkle with fresh herbs. Serve warm with dips, toppings, or as a sandwich wrap!

GlutenFreeFlatbread #CottageCheeseMagic #HealthyBaking #EasyRecipes

[morethansalad]

Oat Flatbread with Roasted Radishes & Cashew Nettle Pesto (Vegan & Gluten-Free)

[knight-hiccup]

𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌 | Hiccup x Fem!Reader ₁

This is Chapter 1 to this Hiccup series -> Masterlist here. Previous Chapter : Next Chapter

Summary: After a deadly tempest rage against Berk, a maelstrom in the sea claims your parents—Where you were then eventually passed into the gruff, tender care of Gobber as his adopted niece. Help raising you beneath the clang of his forge alongside his own godson, Hiccup, a boy destined to defy the world. Hiccup and you stand through many hardships as childhood friends, and awkward occasions as two misfits against the world—a fierce baker of breads and a dreamer craving Viking glory. Pairing: Hiccup x fem!reader Genre: romance, fantasy, suspense, drama, angst, dark, vioIence, friends to lovers, dark themes, heavy Viking lore, Norse mythology, canon divergence, slow burn Word count: 5.1k Warnings: This will have the lore of the films + shows but with much darker themes. Gore/blood, mentions of death, Norse mythology, some realistic dragon themes, more realistic scenarios, and mature themes starting at the point httyd 2 ark comes in, so, ofc NSFW. Any other warnings will be properly tagged upon story progression. A/N: Reader descriptions are not described besides the clothing, true to Viking/httyd fashion from time to time.

CHAPTER 1

The Great Hall of Berk hummed with the morning clamor of a village waking to the promise of a new day. The air was thick with the scent of yeast and woodsmoke, the sweet smell of fresh baked goods ready for the taking but not without a symphony of chaos swirling around you as you danced between ovens and tables in a blur, with flour-dusted hands.

Loaves of bread, their golden crusts glistening with a crisp perfection, stacked high upon the counters in a tantalizing display. Among them, an irresistible assortment of buns—barley, ryes smothered in butter, and berries with oats—each mouthwatering with rustic flavor.

Stretching before you, a mile-long table groans under the weight of temptation: frothy eggnog, honeyed mead, and robust ale, each poised to dance with creamy skyr's or steaming bowls of porridge. And that's just the beginning. Succulent meats, tender fish, plump eggs, vibrant fruits, and crunchy nuts sprawl across the spread, a cornucopia of delights ready to satisfy the ravenous hunger of the tribe.

While the shouts of hungry Vikings echoed through the stone walls—orders barked with the urgency of warriors prepping for any sudden battle.

"More rye, lass!"

"Where's the barley flatbread?"

"Don't skimp on the butter this time!"

You stumbled over your own feet, catching yourself against a barrel of pickled herring before it toppled, a laugh bubbling up despite the madness. This was your domain, your forge of flour and fire, and though the frenzy threatened to swallow you whole, pride sparked in your chest like a well-tended ember.

You kneaded the last batch of dough with a fierceness that would've made a dragon crawl away, slamming it onto the table with a satisfying thwack. The rhythm of it steadied you—knead, fold, press—until the dough was smooth and ready for the oven. Wiping sweat from your brow with the sleeve of your elbow, already streaked with flour, you surveyed the kitchen.

Milkmaidens darted about, their aprons flapping like dragon wings, juggling trays of cheese and slabs of smoked fish. The head cook, a stout woman named Marta, bellowed at a young lad who'd nearly upended a cauldron of porridge. It was a storm, yes, but one you'd learned to ride with the same grit that kept Berk standing against the war.

"That's the last of it," you called, sliding the dough into the roaring oven. The heat kissed your face as you shut the iron door with a clang. Turning to Marta, you tugged at the ties of your apron. "I've got to run—Hiccup's waiting."

Marta's head snapped up; her wooden spoon poised mid-stir like a weapon. "Now? You're leaving me in this mess? The chieftain's crew'll be here any minute, and they'll eat us alive if the bread's not—"

"You've got it under control," you shot back, already halfway to the door, snagging a cloth from the counter. With a deft hand, you bundled a wedge of creamy goats' cheese, between a hunk of fresh flatbread, with some smoked meat and a fried egg—Hiccup's favorite, a little morning ritual you'd started years ago when his skinny frame needed coaxing to fill out. "Besides, I'll be back before Stoick's beard hits the table!"

"Lass, you're a menace!" Marta hollered in her heavy accent, but there was a grudging fondness in her tone as she waved you off, already turning to scold the porridge boy again.

You burst out of the Great Hall into the crisp morning, the wind tugging at your hair as it carried the tang of salt and pine from the cliffs and mountainside. Berk sprawled before you, alive with the clatter of hammers, the bleat of sheep, and the distant roar of a blow horns and shouts overhead—probably one of the twins stirring trouble again.

Your boots pounded the dirt path, the bundle clutched tight against your chest, warm and fragrant. The village blurred past—old man Mildew grumbling at his cabbages, a gaggle of kids chasing a chicken—and your heart thudded with a mix of urgency and something softer, something that always stirred when you thought of Hiccup.

He'd be waiting, probably perched on that rocky outcrop overlooking the harbor you two always shared, scribbling in his sketchbook or muttering to himself about some wild new idea. Ever since you were kids, he'd drag you into his schemes—mapping new ideas that would benefit Berk, testing contraptions that usually ended in singed eyebrows or a stern lecture from Gobber.

You'd been his shadow, his anchor, and somewhere along the way now both at the tender age of fifteen, that quiet crush you waved off had settled in your chest and blossomed more unwillingly. Only sometimes you'd hope he'd never see you as just the bread making Viking who tagged along. A small hope that flickered every time his green eyes lit up with a grin meant just for you—though you'd long convinced yourself it was nothing more than friendship to save yourself.

The path climbed, and your breaths came sharp as you rounded the final bend. There he was, silhouetted against the rising sun, a lanky figure hunched over, legs dangling off the cliff. Hiccup's auburn hair caught the light, tousled by the breeze, and his head was bent over something—probably another madcap invention doomed to earn Gobber's exasperated sigh.

You slowed, catching your breath, and felt that familiar tug in your chest. As you stepped forward, cheesecloth in hand, the wind carried a faint growling-rumble from him, and a laugh slipped from your lips—half at the oddity of the sound, half at the sight of Hiccup's hunched frame as he scribbled away in his journal.

His head snapped up at the sound, green eyes catching yours as you crested the hill. A grin flickered across his face—real and unguarded, the kind he saved just for you—and he set down his tools quickly as you closed the distance. You dropped onto the grass beside him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Brought you your fave again," you said, unwrapping the cloth with a flourish. "My original, egg-cheese, meat breakfast muffin!"

Hiccup's eyes lit up, and he snatched it from your hands, sinking his teeth into it without a second's pause. "Gods, this is my favorite," he mumbled through a mouthful, voice warm with that earnestness that always tugged at you.

You smiled, pulling out your own and taking a bite, the rich tang of the cheese and smoky meat settling on your tongue. For a moment, you both fell quiet, chewing in companionable silence as the sun rose higher, painting Berk's jagged cliffs in hues in warm orange and blue. The village sprawled below, a patchwork of roofs and smoke trails, framed by the endless sea stretching toward the horizon. It was a rare stillness, the kind that felt like a held breath.

Hiccup finished first, brushing crumbs from his tunic with a satisfied sigh, then turned to you, his face alight with sudden energy. "I did it," he said, voice buzzing with excitement.

"Finished your food first?" You respond sarcastically.

"Yes, but no—Finished the dragon trap. It's gonna catch a Night Fury—the Night Fury."

You nodded, still savoring your muffin, as he leaned closer to you.

"This is it, y'know? If I can pull this off, everyone'll finally notice me—Dad, the village, everybody. Maybe I'll even. . ." He hesitated, a flush creeping up his neck. "Maybe even get a girlfriend."

You kept chewing, the meat turning a little tougher in your mouth as you tilted your head, listening. His eyes were fixed on the horizon now, bright with dreams you'd heard a hundred times—dreams you'd helped him sketch on scraps of parchment, dreams you'd quietly wished might one day include you. But you nodded anyway, letting him ramble on about the trap's clever gears and the glory he was chasing.

"You'll do it, Hiccup. You've been planning this for months now. Now we just wait for that dragon. Hopefully, of course, without destruction on its part. . ."

His eyes flicked to yours, brightening, and he nodded—a small, grateful smile breaking through his usual tangle of nerves. "Thanks," he said, soft but sure, the word landing like a spark between you. "And for having my back on this."

For a beat, you held his gaze, that ache in your chest flaring, before the distant clang of the forge bell snapped you both back to Berk's relentless rhythm.

"Gobber's gonna skin you if you don't get back to work," you teased, brushing crumbs from your hands as you stood. Hiccup groaned, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, and Marta's probably got a ladle with your name on it," he shot back, smirking. You laughed, hefting the empty cloth.

"Meet you at the forge later? After I've survived the Great Hall, and you've dodged Gobber's wrath?"

"Deal," he said, already turning back to his workbench, muttering about adjustments. You lingered a moment, watching him, then turned down the path, the rumble fading into the morning's hum.

The hours slipped by in a blur of Hairy Hooligan chaos. Back at the Great Hall, you dodged Marta's sharp tongue and the Vikings' endless appetites, morning, afternoon, and now evening. Your hands stirring while your mind wandered to Hiccup's trap—and the plans to come after.

Meanwhile, the village churned on: smoke curled from chimneys, sheep bleated, and somewhere, a horn sounded signaling another practice raid thwarted. By evening, the sun hung low, casting sharp shadows over Berk's rugged sprawl, and you finally broke free, boots kicking up dust as you headed for the forge again.

The forge glowed like a dragon's maw, heat rippling the air as you approached. Gobber's voice boomed over the clang of metal, his hammer-hand punctuating a lecture you could've recited by heart. "—and if ye think I'm cleanin' up another one of yer 'genius' messes, Hiccup, ye've got another thing comin'!"

Hiccup stood by the anvil, head ducked, fiddling with a tangle of rope and gears that looked suspiciously like his trap. He caught your eye as you stepped in, flashing a sheepish grin—half apology, half plea for rescue.

"Saved by the baker," you called, leaning against a workbench. Gobber wheeled around, his eyes narrowing, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Oi, lass, don't encourage him! This one's been goofin' about all mornin'—nearly set me eyebrows on fire, he did." Hiccup opened his mouth to protest, but Gobber barreled on, waving his hammer-hand.

"And you—shouldn't ye be feedin' the village instead of nursin' this troublemaker's ego?"

"Already did," you said, crossing your arms. "Thought I'd see if Hiccup's still in one piece." Hiccup rolled his eyes, but the grin lingered as he hefted the trap's frame, its metal glinting in the forge light.

"It's ready," he said, voice brimming with that restless energy you knew too well. "Tonight's the night—I can feel it."

Gobber snorted, muttering something about "fool's hope," but you caught the flicker of pride in his gruff stare at Hiccups invention. The forge hummed around you, a heartbeat of steel and sparks. Whatever Hiccup was chasing, it was coming fast and it almost made you nervous.

The forge's glow dimmed into the late dark evening, shadows stretching long across the cluttered workbench. Gobber's patience finally snapped, his hammer-hand clanging against an anvil for emphasis as you too went on and on about things he could care less about.

"That's it—I can't be around ye two anymore tonight! Bunch of misfits, schemin' and chatterin' like a pair of natterin' nannies. Don't blow the place up, ye hear?" He stomped toward the door, muttering under his breath about needing a tankard of mead and a moment's peace, leaving the air buzzing with his departure.

You side glanced at Hiccup, catching the glint in his eye as he turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "Finally," he said, running up to his dragon trap tucked away near the corner space. You admitted it looked really neat, like some of his previous inventions—this was a contraption as wild as his imagination. It didn't surprise you.

"C'mere, look at this." He said excitedly patting it before he crouched beside it, beckoning you closer, and launched into an explanation that tumbled out faster than a terrible terror could attack.

"See, the tension's all in the springs here," he said, tapping a coiled mechanism. "One good shot, and it'll snap shut—bam!—right around the Night Fury's entire body. Fastest dragon out there, but it won't see this coming." His hands danced over the trap, tracing ropes and pulleys, his voice alive with that reckless hope you'd always admired.

You leaned in, squinting at the tangle. "Looks like it could catch a Gronckle. . .or maybe just tangle you up instead," you teased, nudging a loose rope with your index finger. He huffed a laugh, adjusting it with a quick tug.

"Nah, it's foolproof. Well, mostly. Okay, fifty-fifty." He grinned. "But if it works, Dad'll have to notice. The village, too."

"And Astrid?" you added before you could stop, keeping your tone light despite the sting. He flushed, shrugging, and you let it drop, pointing at a jagged edge.

"Better smooth that down—don't want your Night Fury limping away with a grudge."

"Good call," he said, grabbing a file and setting to work. You traded ideas back and forth—tightening bolts, testing the trigger—until the forge grew quiet, the night pressing in around you. Hours slipped away, the fire dwindling to embers behind you both as you sat waiting on the cliff again, and still no raid came. Hiccup's shoulders slumped as he stared out at the dark, star-strewn sky expression disappointed.

"No dragons," he muttered, disappointment lacing his voice. "Thought tonight was it."

You placed a hand on his back, forcing a smile. "They're just waiting to catch you off guard. C'mon, let's call it—Gobber'll have our hides if we're dead on our feet tomorrow." He nodded, reluctant, and you both trudged out, locking the forge behind you.

The village lay silent under a shroud of clouds, and you parted ways—him to his house, you to yours—carrying the weight of an empty home to go back to.

Hours later, the skies still clung tight to the new morning night, heavy and restless, when the first screech tore through Berk. A dragon raid—fierce and sudden. You were already in the forge, having been shaken up by Gobber barging in and yelling at you for help.

Sweat streaking your face as you and Gobber worked in a frantic rhythm, the air thick with sparks and steel. Axes clattered onto the counter, swords hissed against the grindstone, and Vikings roared past the window and above, silhouettes against bursts of flame attempting to steal the sheep.

"Faster, lass!" Gobber bellowed, tossing a freshly sharpened blade to a burly warrior who barely grunted thanks before charging back into the fray.

"These beasts'll have us for breakfast if we don't arm this lot!" You nodded, hands steady despite the chaos, passing out axes like loaves of bread on a feast day. The forge was a storm—metal clanging, fire roaring, and the stench of singed wool and leather as a stray ember caught someone's cloak.

Then the sound of rushing footsteps was heard, and Hiccup stumbled in, all gangly limbs and wild hair. "I've got it—tonight's the night!" he whispers shouts to you. His eyes were bright, desperate, like he'd finally glimpsed his chance.

You glanced up from the axe you were sharpening, catching his gaze, and flashed a quick grin before continuing to sharpen the blade down for a waiting warrior. Gobber spun around; hammer-hand raised mid-swing.

"Oh, nice of ye to join the party!" he bellowed, sarcasm dripping like forge sweat. "I thought ye'd been carried off!"

You snorted, hefting a different weapon, a sword, onto the grindstone, sparks showering your apron. "Aye, by a dragon too picky to eat him? It couldn't stomach all that brawn," you quipped, shooting Hiccup a smirk.

He grinned, shoving your shoulder playfully as he hauled a giant hammer to the wall and moved closer to you, nearly tripping over a pile of scrap metal.

"Who, me?" Hiccup said, puffing out his chest. "Nah, come on—I'm way too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all. . .this." He flexed, all gangly bravado, the gesture so absurdly exaggerated you choked on a laugh, even as you handed off the sword to a Viking who didn't spare you a glance.

Gobber rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" he joked, turning back to the anvil with a grunt.

You smirked, but the high demands of Berk's warriors drowned out any retort—shouts for "More axes!" and "Hurry it up!" pulling you back to the grindstone. Your hands flew, sharpening steel, passing tools, your focus split between the work and Hiccup's whirlwind energy as he darted past you, dodging Gobber's half-hearted swipe to reach the window.

Hiccup wrestled getting to work muttering about angles and tension, a lanky form of determination. You tracked him with quick glances, axe blades singing under your hands, too buried in the rhythm to catch every word of their brewing argument.

Then Hiccup's voice cut through—"I might even get a date"—and your head snapped up, interest flaring with small hope.

Your eyes flickered to him, catching the hopeful tilt of his grin, until a Viking's bellow—"Oi, lass, where's my sword?!"—jerked you back. You muttered an apology, hands scrambling to finish the blade, ears still tuned to their banter.

"If ye want to get out there and fight dragons, ye need to stop all. . .this," Gobber said, waving his hammer-hand at Hiccup in a broad, exasperated arc. You turned, mid-motion, eyebrow raised as you caught the tail end.

Hiccup blinked, incredulous. "But you just pointed to all of me. . ."

"Yes! That's it! Stop being all of you," Gobber shot back, flashing a winning grin that made your stomach twist. You shook your head, jaw tightening, and slammed a pile of sharpened tools onto the counter for the next wave of Vikings.

Gobber's jabs at Hiccup always stung you sideways—too close to the scorn the village heaped on him—and you buried the flare of anger in the work, pounding steel harder than necessary. They kept at it, trading barbs over the forge's roar, while you stayed silent, letting the clatter of metal drown out the urge to snap.

Then a shout shattered the air—"Night Fury!"—and the forge trembled as a shadow-streaked past, unseen but felt, a ripple of dread through the chaos.

Gobber straightened, peg leg thudding. "Mind the fort, ye two! They need me out there!" He wheeled on you both, hammer-hand jabbing.

"Stay. Put. There. . .both of ye. Ye know exactly what I mean." With that, he was gone, charging into the fray with a bellow, leaving the forge quieter but no less alive.

You turned to Hiccup, wide-eyed, the air between you crackling. You knew that look—the glint of a chance he'd been chasing since he first sketched that trap. "You going?" you asked, voice low but steady, a hint of worry.

"Yep!" he shouted, already snagging the trap's frame. "I'll see you soon!" He bolted for the door, a blur of lanky limbs and reckless hope, and you watched him go, heart thudding against your ribs. The forge hummed along with yelling Vikings piling up, embers glowing all around outside, and the Night Fury's sound echoing everything growing chaotic.

"Be careful. . ." You had whispered after he could let you say anything.

You stood alone in the heat, the air thick with soot and the tang of molten steel and turned back to the grindstone. Vikings pounded at the wood framed window, hands outstretched—"Axe, lass!" "Sword, now!"—and you moved quickly, sharpening blades, tossing them out, your arms burning but relentless.

You kept your head down, hands focused on the job at hand, but your mind flickered to Hiccup—out there with that rickety trap, chasing a dream he worked so hard to build. You only prayed he'd be ok.

The raid raged on, a blur of shouts mixed with dragon's roars and flame. You sharpened another sword, passing it back to a warrior whose beard was singed black and strands still burning. The forge was your second battlefield besides the kitchens, and you held it—alone, steady, until a distant crash jolted the air, sharper than the usual din.

You stayed put, as Gobber had ordered, piling blades on the counter before they could take them, ears straining for any hint of Hiccup's fate. The sky lightened, a bruised gray creeping over the horizon as morning began to peak, when a new sound reached you—Stoick's bellow, loud enough to rattle the forge walls, followed by the murmur of a gathering crowd.

Wiping sweat and soot from your face, you stepped outside, the dawn air sharp against your skin. Down the hill, the village had clumped around the wreckage of a torch tower—flames licking its splintered remains. Hiccup stood at the center, shoulders hunched, dwarfed by Stoick's towering frame.

A Monstrous Nightmare roared, pinned by a toppled net, and Stoick wrestled it back, barking orders—"Take it to the pens!"—before rounding on his son. You edged closer, boots crunching on charred earth, catching the tail end of the lecture as the crowd watched, a mix of pity, shame and scorn in their eyes.

". . .Every time you step outside, disaster follows!" Stoick thundered, his voice a hammer strike. "Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter's almost here, and I have an entire village to feed!"

Hiccup shifted; voice small but defiant. "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" A few Vikings gasped offended, while you covered your mouth to hide the laugh, but Stoick's glare silenced them.

"This isn't a joke, Hiccup! Why can't you follow the simplest orders?" he demanded, hands clenched.

"I—I can't stop myself," Hiccup stammered, gesturing helplessly. "I see a dragon, and I have to just. . .kill it, you know? It's who I am, Dad. . ."

Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperation carving lines into his face. "You are many things, Hiccup. But a dragon killer is not one of them." He straightened, turning to the crowd.

"Get back to your homes!" Then, softer, to Hiccup, "Get back to the house." He glanced at Gobber, who'd limped up beside him. "Make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up."

Gobber nodded, slapping Hiccup with his good hand. "Aye, come on." The crowd dispersed, muttering, and Hiccup trudged forward, head down, hands shoved into his tunic as he ignored the other teens taunts. You stepped out from the edge, heart twisting at the slump in his frame, and caught up as he passed. Gently, you laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough to say I'm here without words.

He glanced at you, eyes shadowed but softening, a faint, tired smile flickering. "See you later," he murmured, barely audible, and you nodded, letting your hand fall as Gobber steered him toward the house. You watched them go—Hiccup's lanky silhouette beside Gobber's hobbling bulk—until they vanished up the path, the weight of his failure and your quiet worry settling like the ash around you. Lingering a moment, the weight of his slumped shoulders etched into your mind, then turned back to the forge.

The chaos had ebbed, leaving charred wood and bent steel in its wake, and you busied yourself stacking weapons, the rhythm dulling the knot in your chest. But it didn't stop your ears from straining for his footsteps, or your thoughts from circling back to that scream he made down the hill.

By mid-morning, you'd exhaustedly traded the forge for the Great Hall, sleeves rolled up, hands buried in dough like every other day before it. This time with barely any sleep. The air hummed with yeast and mead. The low grumble of Vikings in the hall nursing wounds with pride over their porridge.

Marta barked orders as she always did, her ladle a scepter, but you barely heard her—your mind was still out there, with Hiccup, wondering what mess he'd stumbled into now, and how you wished your shift would end so you can visit him or sleep.

Flour dusted your arms as you kneaded, the familiar pull and press a tether to sanity, when a shadow slipped through the door. 

Hiccup—eyes wide, darting like a hare caught in the open. He sidled up, voice a hushed rush. "I hit something," he said, tugging your sleeve with that restless energy you couldn't ignore. "Last night, with the trap—I think it worked. C'mon, you've gotta see." His breath was quick, his grin half-thrill, half-panic, and it left a spark of unease in your gut.

You froze, dough clinging to your fingers, and shot a glance at Marta. Her back was turned, but her glare could burn holes through stone. "Hiccup, I'm up to my elbows here—," you started, but his pleading look cut you off, green eyes bright with the kind of wild hope you'd never learned to say no to. You sighed, wiping your hands on your apron. "Fine. But if Marta skins me, you're baking the next five batches."

"Deal," he said, already halfway out the door. You followed, ducking Marta's wrath and the curious stares of a few Vikings, your boots hitting the dirt as Hiccup led you uphill, past the village's edge. The woods loomed, damp and tangled, and he rambled as you went—words tripping over each other about the trap's "perfect shot," the bola's arc, how he'd heard something crash. You stumbled over roots, swatting branches, and tossed him a dry look.

"Perfect shot, huh? Or did you just knock down another tower and call it a win?" you teased, dodging a low limb. He huffed a laugh, shoving you lightly.

"Come on, really? This is it—the Night Fury. I know it." His voice trembled with conviction, and you didn't argue, just kept pace, the air growing thick with pine, earth and the faint tang of rain. You didn't bother to counter, simply matching his stride while you two made it deeper into the woods.

The woods closed the deeper you got—turning into forest. The damp earth tugging at your boots, your heels throbbing after what felt like hours—though you couldn't be sure. Maybe one, maybe two; time blurred by quickly. You hadn't wanted to disappoint him, not with that fire in his eyes. So, you kept on, even as he groaned every mile, his makeshift map—a mess of 'X' marks scratched into his sketchbook—crumpling in his grip.

He edged closer to you, shoving the map under your nose. "Here—see? It's gotta be near," he muttered, tracing a jagged line with a dirt-smudged finger. You squinted at it, biting back a smirk at the chaos of his art, and shifted your weight, wincing as your heels protested.

"Hmm. . .Hiccup?" you said, slowing to a stop. "You think maybe we should head back and try again tomorrow?"

He sighed deeply, a gust of frustration that seemed to deflate him, and snapped the book shut. "Oh, the gods hate me," he grumbled, voice dripping with self-pity. "Some people lose their knife, or their mug. No, not me." You froze, biting your lip to stifle a snort, watching him trudge on, still ranting to the trees—and you.

"—I only manage to lose an entire dragon," he spat, slapping a broken branch in his path. It whipped back, smacking him square in the face, and that broke you. A burst of laughter erupted, echoing around you both as you doubled over, hands on your knees, the sound of your laugh leaving you silent at its peak from sheer force. Hiccup whirled, cheeks flushed and waved a desperate hand to cover your mouth. "Shh! Shush, shush—quiet!" he pleaded, voice a frantic hiss.

Your smile faded as his urgency hit, and you ducked lower beside him, breath catching. The forest felt quiet suddenly—too still—and a rustle rippled through the underbrush. Hiccup's wide-eyed glance met yours, a shared pulse of adrenaline, and you crept forward together, his crumpled map forgotten in his fist. The trail dipped into a ravine, steep and shadowed, and he slowed, breath catching as he heaves—quickly ducking.

"There," he whispered, pointing with a trembling finger. You peered over the edge, and your stomach twisted. There it was—the Night Fury—bound in a snarl of ropes and bola weights, black scales glinting like wet stone against the earth. Its wings still, pinned, and its chest unmoving.

"Hiccup. . ." you breathed, voice barely a thread. "You actually did it," you murmured, awe tinged with worry, your gaze darting between them. He swallowed, face pale, and you saw it—the crack in his resolve, the flicker of something deeper.

He edged closer, pulling his knife from his belt. You lunged to grab his arm, roots jabbing your knees, but he slipped free, clambering over the ravine's lip before you could stop him. He ducked behind a boulder—the only shield between him and the beast—and you crouched, watching, worry gnawing at you. Your lip stung as you bit it hard, tasting iron, eyes locked on his lanky frame huddled in the dirt.

He peeked out, voice rising, loud and brash. "I—I did it! Ohh, this. . .this fixes everything! Yes!" He straightened, chest puffed, and you rose too, both of you bold with the certainty the dragon was dead—its stillness a grim trophy. "I have brought down this mighty beast!" he crowed, stepping forward to plant a foot on its side, triumphant.

Then the Night Fury twitched—a shudder of muscle under scales—and Hiccup froze, the blade shaking in his grip. You stumbled forward, the air thick with earth and the beast's ragged breaths, its green eyes snapping open to bore into his. Very much alive.

This is Chapter 1 to this Hiccup series -> Masterlist here. Previous Chapter : Next Chapter

Gifs/edits, dividers + template credit to #uservampyr my co-writer + beta reader ♡

[skeletwinsauaskbox]

Nutty Buddhist Bamboo Herbal Ultra Spicy Purple Yellow Candy Fluffy Vodka Wine Yogurt Jam Fluff Honey Hummus Pesto Quail Easter Egg Melon Ackee Apricot Avocado Durian Dragonfruit Elderberry Fig Grape Guava Jackfruit Kiwi Kumquat Lemon Lychee Olive Orange Pear Plum Papaya Quince Rose Apple Rye Sorghum Wheat Daikon Endive Fiddlehead Ginseng Horseradish Jícama Kale Leek Lettuce Ube Okra Pea Radish Collards Artichoke Turnip Truffle Watercress Acorn Almond Hazelnut Eyed Peanut Walnut Maggot Mussel Balut Clam Crab Duck Frog Leg Goat Goose Horse Insect Kangaroo Lamb Oyster Prawn Rabbit Snail Turkey Venison Worm Inky Dapperpus Pringle Donut Jellyfish Mozzarella Stick Pou Caviar Jello Pound Cake Angel Milk Cereal Plant Nut Muffin Sprite Bloody Mary Pot Yoylecake Bowl Mango Açaí Banana Date Dreamberry Lime Peach Yoyleberry Snowman Chilly Ice Anise Clove Nutmeg Chili Powder Cold Shoulder Chilled Bone Barbecue Samosa Black Burger Mint Basil Corn Chard Eggplant Habanero Jalapeño Kohlrabi Kidney Lentil Onion Vanilla Azuki Chickpea Coffee Bean Licorice Oat Pumpkin Tea Leaf Ginger Herb Wasabi Root Mashed Potato Oatmeal Sussy Garlic Bagel Flatbread Bun Dill Pickle Fava Beans on Toast Sushi Feijoada Hamburger Charlie The Steak Shepherd's Le Fishe Au Chocolat Roll Twice-cooked Churrasco Fried & Chips Calamari Cupcake Pilkshake Pilknog Hot Gravy Chocolate Salsa Ketchup Relish Tomato Sauce Icing Sundae Spaghetti Ramen Biscuit Pie Minestrone Curry Yoylestew Miso Soup Rice Ball Fish Anchovy Bacon Cod Eel Ham Herring Lobster Octopus Pork Squid Spam Tuna Veal Beef Morel Enoki Stew

This might be the longest ask in tumblr.

(That's the third time this week! Yes, I know it's Monday, shush!)

[okaima]

Karelian words - Traditional foods prt. 2

Kagrakiiseli - pudding made from mixture of rye bread starter and oat milk. Can be eaten sweet or savory, often with nob of butter on top.

Kapustakoašša - a soup made from pearl barley and cabbage or sauerkraut.

Kapustavoassa - soup or stew made from cabbage and beer.

Kuopsu - mixture of cream and partially mashed berries frozen up.

Lohkoi - boiled white turnip mixed with rye or malt flour and broth, thickened in oven into kind of stew.

Marjaimelä, moarjamämmi - a dish made by malting rye flour and berries and baked in oven in low heat.

Potakkarieška - thick flatbread made from mashed potatoes, milk or water mixed with flour. Occasionally bread starter is also added in.

Pyynrokka - soup made from mashed vegetables such as white turnip, potato, carrot or similar and hazel grouse, thickened up with rye flour. Typically eaten with soured cream or smetana.

Raučču - soup made from water or milk and fish roe.

Retniekka, reätniekka - side dish of salted, pickled radishes mixed with smetana or soured cream.

Riissukiiseli - pudding made by boiling leftover rice pie filling with extra milk or water. Sweetened with sugar and nuts.

Rosmoikiiseli - pudding made from milk or water mixed with rye bread starter thickened with simmering. Slightly tart in flavor.

[bucketofcarbs]

BADUMPBADUMP BADUMPBADUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP

IIIIIIIITS (almost) THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN LADS!

I hope you will all gladly join me for this year's annual carb tourney! Where we determine the most popular carb. Last year's winner was potatoes, but lets see if the king can maintain their crown.

As always, keep it respectful! This is a fun little carb tourney. If I see hate in the comments, you will be blocked ❤️ All carbs are good carbs!

All that said, I've had a whole year to think on it, and have a few new contenders to add to the list! As well as a few adjustments.

I will also be re-opening submissions for critiques of my groupings or to add any categories you feel I've missed. The poll proper won't pick up till November, once I've got more free time!

FORM LINK

But on to the list! All your favs returning, of course:

- Potatoes

- Rice

- Pasta and Noodles

- Cereals

- Breakfast Cereals

- Tortillas

- Corn

- Beans and other Legumes

- Baked Desserts

- Classic Cafe Pastries

- Beer

- Stuffed Doughs

- Couscous

- Nuts

- Quinoa

- Fried Doughs

- Crackers

- Trail mix

Small changes are:

- Oats and Granola are being put together

- Bread is now Breads and Flatbreads, with Injera being added to flatbreads

- Pancakes and Waffles now adds Crepes!

- Squash and Gourds now adds Yams more clearly

But for new contenders we have:

- Other Root Vegetables (carrots, beetroot, parsnips, turnips)

- Fruits, Berries and Juices (Apples, bananas, mangoes, Goji berries, blueberries, raspberries, etc.)

- Dried Fruits (dates, raisins)

- Milk, Yogurts, and Ice Creams

- Sugar based treats and Candies (jelly beans, candycanes, gummy bears, jello, etc.)

- Honey

- Syrups and Spreads (maple syrup, jams, the like)

- Sodas and Energy Drinks

- Pizza (wild I know but it hit me it doesn't really fit any other category? So here it is!)

Lots of more general and simple carbs have been added. Though I imagine some may be controversial, I stand by their inclusion! But are there any I missed? Any categories that need adjusting? Let me know! In the form bellow!

FORM LINK

[lionsongfr]

Crystalline Gala Cuisine

Been a bit since I made a festival cuisine, and since my old ones have been circulating, I guiltily figured I should make one for the Gala before it ends.  Gaolers and Tundras are both herbivores (though Gaolers also eat meat), but I headcanon that like most herbivores they will opportunistically eat fish, insects, and meat when given the chance. The dishes have a bit more mixing than the previous cuisine; in the Icefield you eat what you can and as much as you can to survive. Potato Onions are my replacement for potatos, because FR needs potatoes (and citrus and tomatoes and wheat and rice and spices).

Seeker Stew- originally a stew of necessity for traveling Seekers, it was made of dried Sea Grass, small Cragside Mussels, canned Common Minnows, Sour Elk milk, and spoiled Turnips. The dish was transformed back home, using fresh Spinach, meaty Olympia Oysters, Jumbo Shrimp, new Potato Onions, and…sour Snowfall Elk milk. Funk is flavor!

Shalefin in a Fur Coat- this uniquely named dish is a layered salad, like the layers of a Tundra fur coat. It is made of finely sliced pickled Shalefin fillets, grated Potato Onion, Gradish, and Honeycrisp Apple, and chopped hard-boiled Flecked Bushrunner eggs. The key binding ingredient is a flavorful mayonnaise made of Elk tallow, Dappled Clucker yolks, and dill.

Bear in a Cave Dumplings-a favorite of the Fae scholars of the Frozen Sanctum. It is a boiled or fried Potato Onion dumpling filled with fried Wooly Bear, Wild Onion, and Dryad's Saddle. It can be served with melted Elk milk butter and Winter’s Delight jam or a white sauce spiced with dried Dusky Mealworm and imported Golden Pepper.

Tundra Grub- a dish named after the main protein of the dish: a sausage filled with Tundra Grub meat, Longneck-grown oats, and Elk blood. The sausage is fried along with strips of Tundra Cactus before being added to an earthy brown sauce of Mycena Mushroom and Earthworms. It is typically served with an unleavened flatbread made of rye or Longneck oats, or a mash of Potato Onion.

Woodland Turkey Dinner- this was once a seasonal dish, but now is common year-round. While the star of the dinner is the roasted Woodland Turkey, the side dishes are just as essential. The most common is: Deep Sea Lobster and Jumbo Shrimp stuffing, roasted Winter Brussel Sprouts with a Superberry vinegarette, Tundra Grub and Potato Onion mash with Mycena Mushroom gravy, and Stonecorn rolls with Elk cheese and White Lace Honeybee honey. And last but not least, a Cinnamon and Honeycrisp Apple pie. A heavy dinner said to put even Sentinels to sleep!

Trunk Cheese- not actually cheese, but a cold meat dish made of fresh Bullephant Trunk (or Mammophant, though it is not as tasty).  The meat of the trunk is removed and cooked in a mix of spices and Wild Onion, and then poured and set with gelatin in the skin of the trunk. Slices are cut from the trunk and served upon rye bread with strong Wild Mustard and pickled Gradish.   

Edamame Soup and Pancakes- a popular yet odd combination of savory and sweet. This dish features a Chilled Edamame soup (heated of course, the chilled variety of plants grow better in the hot houses of Icefield) with large chunks of smokey Elk bacon, a sprinkle of thyme, and a dollop of Wild Mustard. The pancakes are made of nutty and mildly sweet Amaranth flour and served with Winter’s Delight jam. The soup is traditionally dished with a silver spoon, after a mighty Tundra king was poisoned by his favorite soup.

Warden’s Delight- a dessert, a snack, a spread upon rye bread, and a delight to every hatchie. It is a mix of Elk tallow, Spotted Seal or Wooly Walrus oil, fresh snow, and Winter’s Delight. As the mixture is whipped into fluffy peaks, it is traditional to sing “Warden’s Delight to fight off the night, no Shade or beast shall fill my sight. Drive away the hunger, drive away the cold, fill my belly and make me bold.”

Frozen Bouquet- flowers are rarity in the Southern Icefield, but this bouquet is made from flash-frozen flowers and fruits. After thawing they are quickly coated in a thin layer of crystalized maple syrup and then arranged into a bouquet. Often the bouquets have hidden meanings like Pretty Pink Mums for courting. Winterbelle for strength, and Wolfsbane for warning. But what every Tundra fears the most is a bouquet of Black Tulips.

 Crisp Morning Cider- Vodka is life to Ice Flight, the warmth in one’s chest in a land where winter never ends. And while most drink it “neat”, when rations are low then cocktails are the answer!  This drink is a common morning warmer and is a mix of White Lace Honeybee honey with hot water, Vodka, Honeycrisp Apple cider, and Cinnamon.

Boreal Brew-a tea made from the leaves of whatever green tree is available. Birch, Fir, Spruce, and Pine can all be brewed into an astringent tea with a citrus-y aftertaste. Unfortunately, Birch, Fir, and Spruce are typically harvested during Spring-Summer- but Pine is harvested during December. To help remove the bitter taste, Pine can be fermented with sugar for a week to a month (fermentation time depending on temperature) and then filtered and served as cold tea.

[herrfivehead]

made a solid dough out of russet potatoes, seasoned oat flour (literally just quick oats ground in the blender with salt, garlic powder and rosemary), earth balance butter, and oat milk, hoping to make pieces of pan-fried flatbread to go with the chicken curry i prepared with blended spinach, red pepper, and (successfully-made) cashew cream in the sauce

[morethansalad]

Vegan Heart Shaped Pink Pizza (with Falafel Crust & Plant-Based Cream Cheese)

[iheartyuuluvvy]

chat in infinite chef i just made

Dinner is served, and it's Salted Sweet and Fluffy Elderberry Rose Apple Cranberry Starfruit Pomelo Currant Dreamberry Mulberry Date Olive Cantaloupe Lychee Jackfruit Orange Lemon Lime Grape Avocado Rye Pistachio Horse Liver Calf Brain Goat Dapperpus Pringle Matcha Tofu Popcorn Vegan Jello Syrup Feijoada Biscuit Fairy Bun Flatbread Pretzel Bagel Wafer Baguette Taco Chowder Mud Fluffernutter Muffin Carbonara S'more Oreo Mayochup Buffalo Wing Barbecue Salsa Ketchup Chocolate Hot Relish Cheese Mayonnaise Gravy Worcestershire Tomato Butterscotch Soy Sauce Icing Buttercream Sundae Yoylecake Açaí Bowl Coleslaw Radish Portabella Chive Lima Alfalfa Sprout Watercress Lavender Yam Butternut Squash X Parsley Chard Vanilla Fava Rutabaga Kidney Chili Pepper Rosemary Habanero Cauliflower Bay Turnip Peppermint Sage Pickle Mung Tea Garlic Cilantro Bamboo Shoot Enoki Thyme Wasabi Cocoa Lentil Curry Leaf Pinto Basil Coffee Bean Tabasco Mint Onion Seed Chickpea Dill Mustard Greens Vegetable Eggplant Leek Lettuce Truffle Cabbage Fiddlehead Black-eyed Pea White Button Shiitake Rhubarb Soybean Water Chestnut Oat Cucumber Licorice Root Corn Peanut Sugar Beet Potato Pumpkin Carrot on A Stick Twice-cooked WOAH!! California Roll Sushi Shepherd's Pie Ocean Number 15 Oppenheimer Developer Squid Human Salad Lamb Baby Doll Crayfish Sausage Spam Poultry Fish Beef Blue Lobster Goose Crab Snail Pepperoni Bacon Prawn Cephalopod Balut Ham Octopus Shellfish Salami Pork Tongue Rabbit Meat Kebab Fried Red Herring Sardine Anchovy Cod Tuna Mackerel Eel Calamari Spaghetti & Ground Meatball Foot Nugget Chicken Patty Burger Hotdog Ice Sour Cream Sandwich Cheeseburger Black Eyed Peas Mashed Banana Pudding Brookie Lollipop Dango Brownie Pop Churrasco (#InfiniteChef)

@asgudasded @sna1lbl0b

[vougeangel]

enchanting snackish meal plan (pretty + light, but nourishing)

The kind of girl who eats daintily, but mysteriously—like maybe you live off of pumpkin things, matcha, and things wrapped in parchment paper. You want to glow, stay full enough to have energy, and keep your meals pretty, light, angelic, and witchy.

Here’s a cool, magical meal/snack plan that matches your aesthetic but still fuels you. Every item is quick, cozy, and snackable—even if you get full fast.

☀️ Morning (7–9 AM) — "Forest Witch Breakfast"

Pumpkin oatmeal bites (use pumpkin purée, oats, maple, cinnamon — roll into balls + chill)

OR: Cottage cheese or Greek yogurt with honey, cinnamon, and apple slices (if you can tolerate dairy!)

Matcha or coffee with almond/oat milk and cinnamon

A boiled egg or 2 if you need protein without heaviness

Pumpkin purée oatmeal with maple drizzle + cinnamon + almond milk

Rice cake with almond butter + sliced strawberries + hemp seeds

Chia pudding with vanilla, honey, and berries (prep the night before!)

Half an avocado toast with sea salt + chili flakes + a boiled egg

+ Warm matcha latte with oat milk + tiny buttered toast fingers

✨ Aesthetic tip: Use vintage cups, mason jars, or wooden spoons. Add cinnamon to everything.

🧺 Midmorning snack (10:30–11 AM) — "Study Girl Rations"

Lavender or blueberry tea

A couple of almond butter crackers or a slice of toast with butter and cinnamon sugar

Dark chocolate square or a medjool date

Handful of dark chocolate chips + almonds

Baby carrots with a little hummus or tzatziki

Apple slices with cinnamon + peanut butter

A small protein bar or granola clusters

Crackers with herbed cream cheese

🕯️ Lunch (12:30–2 PM) — "Mysterious Midday Meal"

Mini charcuterie box: turkey or rotisserie chicken slices, cucumber spears, baby tomatoes, berries, and a few pretzels or crackers

OR: Soup in a thermos (butternut squash, tomato basil, lentil)

If at home: grilled cheese with spinach on whole grain bread + cut in triangles

Small bowl of soup (tomato basil, lentil, or miso) + a slice of buttered toast

Turkey + cheese rollups with mustard + fruit on the side

Mini salad with spinach, goat cheese, nuts, and berries + a slice of bread

Mini quesadilla with black beans + avocado + pico de gallo

Rice bowl: jasmine rice + sautéed spinach + egg + a tiny bit of sauce

✨ Aesthetic tip: Eat slowly, like you’re reading a book in a haunted library.

🧃 Afternoon Snack (3–4 PM) — "Magic Hour Snack"

Chai iced latte or iced matcha + a little tea cookie or biscuit

A banana with almond butter, or a mini rice cake with cream cheese + jam

OR: a small protein smoothie (frozen banana, milk, cinnamon, oats, optional protein powder)

Greek yogurt with honey + granola crumble

Trail mix (nuts, dried fruit, maybe white chocolate)

Half a PB&J sandwich or English muffin with jam

Banana with peanut butter drizzle

🌙 Dinner (6–7 PM) — "Soft Dinner in a Candle-Lit Kitchen"

Roasted sweet potatoes + kale + chicken or tofu with a drizzle of tahini or balsamic glaze

OR: Brown rice bowl with veggies and sesame or peanut dressing

OR: Mini flatbread pizza with pesto, mozzarella, and cherry tomatoes

Pasta with butter + garlic + spinach + a sprinkle of parm

Sautéed mushrooms + rice + tofu or chicken + tamari sauce

Baked sweet potato with cinnamon or butter + small veggie side

Ramen with bok choy + egg + scallions (light on the broth)

Couscous salad with chickpeas, tomatoes, cucumber, lemon

✨ Aesthetic tip: Turn the lights low, eat by candle or string light. Play sad indie music or lo-fi jazz.

🍵 Bedtime Snack (if needed) — "Dream Girl Treat"

Warm milk with cinnamon or herbal tea

A couple butter crackers, toast, or a fig bar

OR: Pumpkin muffin, small square of chocolate, or fruit + nut butter

Herbal tea + dark chocolate square

Crackers + slice of cheese

Warm milk + cinnamon + nutmeg (dreamy for sleep)

Frozen grapes or cherries

Mini fruit bowl with mint

💡 Notes for You:

If you get full easily, frequent mini-meals work best for energy and mood.

Each meal should have a little protein, carb, and fat, even if tiny. That’s how you glow.

When in doubt, make it ✨cozy and cute✨. A sliced pear in a ramekin >>> a giant salad you’ll hate.

This plan works even with a controlling parent—you can prep snacks secretly or use low-effort ingredients that seem “normal.”

[basketobread]

TREAT THIS ASK AS A BREAK FROM THE TREMENDOUS (and wonderful) AMOUNT OF DRAWING YOU'RE DOING (again- wonderful, spectacular, earthquake creating.) Bob, if i may be so bold, what is your favourite type of bread?

IDSUHDFSIUFSHFDIS THANK YOU FOR THE BREAK BUT I PROMISE I ENJOY ALL THE DRAWING IM DOING!!!!

BUUUUT if you INSIST on me taking a quick little break... how am i to refuse? 😇🙏

UMMMM okay, this is a really difficult question because i love all kinds of bread. honey oat has always been a top favorite of mine. i eat a slice of honey oat toast every morning when we have it. if not, i usually opt for the classic bagel. but i also enjoy jalapeño cheddar bread!

oh and i REALLY enjoy cinnamon raisin bread. that's always a solid choice. oh and classic wheat is pretty okay too. ummm you can't go wrong with rye though... OH but sourdough is pretty good too. apparently tortilla is considered a flatbread????? if that's the case then tortillas de harina might have to be my top favorite...

but if not, then a good brioche is always a solid choice. well then theres also brown bread which is pretty yummy. baguettes are perfect for some sandwiches though.

OH BUT BANANA BREADDDDD!! banana bread is always good if you want something sweet. but since you're making me choose ONE SINGLE BREAD...

my final answer...

is...

wut were we talking about again...

anyways... i like bread! 👍🍞

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

give me ideas of foods to make to use up all my chametz. I wont be buying anything with chametz in large amounts until pesach is over but I might get single-serving treats sometimes. I need to use up flour, oats, and bread mostly, but also some crackers and a few condiments like soy sauce. im thinking of making oatmeal cookies which will use up both the flour and the oats and maybe some flatbreads as well? I want all my chametz out by April 20th at the latest bc on the 21 ill be kashering my kitchen and cooking everything ill eat over the course of pesach (besides a few things that would be gross as leftovers)

[thejoyofseax]

An Early Irish Feast for Drachenwald's Spring Crown, AS LVIII

Spring Crown this year was hosted by Dun in Mara in the territory of Glen Rathlin. As with almost all SCA projects, this feast didn't quite hit all the things I intended. In particular, I'd been thinking of having documentation available alongside it, and of a few more dishes that didn't make it in the end. A fermented porridge was high on that list. Next time!

Before I start talking about food, though, let me thank my kitchen crew: THL Órlaith Caomhánach, Lady Gabrielle of Dun in Mara, Noble Mallymkun Rauði, Lady Erin Volya and Cassian of Allyshia. There were a few other folk in and out of the kitchen too (THL Yda Van Boulogne did excellent work on the various flavoured butters), but these five did the bulk of the work. Lady Erin also provided lunch; cooking at Crown for 80 people as her first event cookery is notable.

The main idea here was to lean heavily on seafood, which isn't often done in SCA feasts in my experience, and represents the food of Ireland well. I also wanted to include pork as a main meat, emphasise oats and barley, and use plain vegetables presented well. There were to be condiments on the table, hence Yda's butters: plain, honey, mackerel and garlic-and-chive, as well as green sauce (largely Órlaith's work, with Cass finishing it out). Condiments and the number of them available were an important aspect of Irish medieval hospitality.

I also wanted to nod to the usual progress of early Irish feasts, which started with formal services and frequently ended up so raucous and drunken that the nobility woke up the following morning on the hall floor along with everyone else. So we served to the tables to begin, and then had a less and less orderly buffet.

The first "course" was a set of pottages. The main one was pork, cabbage, onion, carrots, turnips, and barley, which had been slowly cooked down over a number of hours. There was also a version with lamb, for those who couldn't eat pork, and this doubled as the gluten-free version, having no barley. And there was a vegetarian one, including barley, but substituting mushrooms for the meat. These were served with flatbreads, risen yeast dough having been a tough proposition in the Irish climate (and still is, really; that's why the most Irish of breads is soda bread).

As that was consumed, we stocked the buffet with: sides of salmon (steamed then baked), mussels (boiled), monkfish and mackerel (also steamed and baked), chicken pieces (baked), hard-boiled eggs, turnips with butter, carrots with honey, samphire (new to many, most enthused about it), caramelised onions, creamed leeks, buttered cabbage with and without bacon bits, and a broth-based porridge, accompanied by a variety of flatbreads and oat pancakes. And as that all cleared, we put out fruit, some cheese, some oaten biscuits, and a "cheesecake", of sorts.

Everything was plausibly pre-Norman Irish, with the exception of the oaten biscuits and the cheesecake base, which were egregiously modern - although I could argue for something very like them. Simple cooking techniques mean that those are broadly plausible as well - steaming may seem incongruous, but I'll have more to say on that again.

It all seemed to go down well. A number of people said they weren't sure about fish, and then followed with "… but that was great!", and the green sauce, the samphire and the cheesecake were particular hits. The technique of doing a wide variety of simple things usually does well, I find; even the pickiest of eaters can usually have a few things, and the adventurous can pile their plates with a wide variety.

And I had energy enough left to wander around the party hall later offering plates of fruit, cheese and biscuits, which is one of my favourite things to do.