#pizza oven for sale

[bbqgenerals]

Affordable Portable Pizza Ovens for Sale - BBQ Generals

Discover top-quality portable pizza ovens for sale at BBQ Generals. Perfect for backyard parties or on-the-go cooking, these ovens deliver wood-fired flavor anytime, anywhere. Compact and easy to use, they’re designed for delicious, crispy pizzas in minutes. Shop now and bring the pizzeria experience home!

[1fanexpert]

(via Outdoor Pizza Ovens for Sale : Efficient)

[tandoorstore]

Website: https://www.tandoorstore.co.uk/

Tandoor Store UK offers high-quality tandoors with a long service life.

Ceramic tandoor is a home outdoor oven in which you can cook not only meat products and vegetables. In our tandoors, you can bake bread from your own dough. And of course pizzas.

The benefits of our tandoors:

Other manufacturers claim that at the first ignition on the walls of the tandoor cracks appear. In our case, the furnaces ""grow"" the mesh from the incisions, which can hardly be seen. Unlike many analogues, we produce only high-quality tandoors: you can easily check it in practice, because after the first 2-3 roses on the walls will not appear cracks, and formed barely noticeable to the human eye ""web.""

In the best traditions of the East, we use exclusively certified shambolic clay. The margins of error of the size of the tandoor are 5%

The EASY OPEN lid folding mechanism with a retainer is for safe and convenient use of the tandoor.

To avoid heat loss, thermal locks under the lid are built into our tandoors.

Each order - a set as a gift: the skewers , poker, scoop, cross, waterproof cover, set 4in1 and the mechanism of lifting the lid.

We make insulated tandoors with a thickness of walls of 15 cm - and this is 20% stronger than the analogues.

We use certified shambolic clay, which serves as an indicator of the quality of the number one in the production of tandoor furnaces.

Due to high-quality raw materials and traditional manufacturing technologies, our tandoors have a high performance: from 2 to 5 hours of heat recoil.

The walls are 7-8 cm thick for non insulated tandoors.

Thanks to the double ceramic coating, our insulated tandoors are not afraid of temperature changes.

Taking care of your safety and convenience due to the folding mechanism of lifting the LID EASY OPEN with an automatic retainer.

Why choose our tandoors?

Quality control:

During the production process, each tandoor undergoes an examination on the ecology of the composition and the strength of the structure. Thus, chemical analysis and all sorts of tests, which are carried out at the plant, allow to exclude defective products in the early stages of production. So be sure to the best - you will get an exceptionally high-quality oriental furnace.

Forging:

After 2-3 roses you will see how cracks will appear on the walls - this is inevitable for any tandoor. Unlike other manufacturers, ours forms a mesh of incisions, thinner than a human hair - you can hardly see it with the naked eye. And even with this arrangement, we traditionally strengthen the walls of the furnace with a blacksmith forging in 4 mm, which in case of extreme overload will keep your tandoor intact.

Tradition & Technology:

Authentic production techniques and an innovative approach have allowed us to create the perfect tandoor. High-quality raw materials and construction, tested for centuries, combined with the latest technologies: thermal lock and lifting technology EASY OPEN for fixing heavy ceramic cover. To the wish, we will also build a thermo sensor in the lid: be prepared to receive even more compliments in favor of your culinary abilities.

Oriental Cuisine All Year Round:

Three types of insulation are used in insulated tandoors. Therefore, you can use the oven throughout the year. The insulated furnace will keep warm for up to 5 hours even in severe frosts.

Easy Cooking Process:

Given that in tandoor can be baked, fried, simmered and stewed - it does not require unique cook skills, but very quickly tightens and becomes a favorite pastime. In addition, you can easily find a recipe and instructions on the preparation of any oriental dish on the Internet. Armenian kebab, chicken with vegetables or fish in foil: under any taste preferences of your loved ones.

Lifespan of at least 10 years:

A good tandoor can be determined by several signs: the thickness of the walls from 7 cm, the smooth ceramic surface and the presence of blacksmithing. Everything will show the first ignition, after which deep cracks should not form - with our furnaces you will not face such a problem. They satisfy all quality indicators, which is why they have a longer lifespan than their counterparts. If properly operated, it is at least 10 years old.

Certified Factory Manufacturer:

Mandatory certification of clay raw materials and roasting products at a temperature of 1200 degrees give as a result of tandoor, which has passed all stages of inspection and is ready to please your whole family for years. With it you will live a lot of unforgettable gastronomic discoveries. Pork kebabs for my daughter's birthday or weekend at the cottage with a real Uzbek pilaf: the valuable joys of living in the circle of relatives and friends with our oriental ovens.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tandoorstore.co.uk

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/martins_brants

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[thebbqstore]

Are You Looking for the perfect Pizza ?

Look no further than a Ooni Pizza Oven.

Boasting exceptional craftmanship and quality that is second to none creating the best pizza is only onw of the things this masterpiece can do.

With the help of the Cast iron skillet made by Ooni roasts are no problem.

The Duel sided grizzlier plate takes care if steaks , burgers and chicken.

You can prepare a grand feast for any occasion.

Come down to the Preston's (NSW) or the Mt Waverly (VIC) and have a look at our range and chat with our staff and we can get you sorted out with everything you need to be called Pizzaiolo in no time.

Learn More

[moneyalphanews]

Ooni slashes 20% off ALL pizza ovens in Black Friday sale

Ooni slashes 20% off ALL pizza ovens in Black Friday sale

FOR Black Friday the pizza oven aficionados, Ooni, is slashing 20% off all items sitewide.The sale kicked off this week with discounts across almost everything on the website, including a range of cooking accessories. Read Full Text

[chronicallycouchbound]

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

[pinkluver93]

Is This Jealousy I'm Feeling?

Dr. Keh X Player fanfiction. I posted it on Aooo too. Enjoy :)

After a long day at your shop, you harvest the 300 artichokes Keh told you to grow (why the heck did he need so many anyway??) and drive over to Keh’s shop. As soon as you walk in with them in a grocery tote, he approaches you, smiling that punchable smile you hate so much….

“I see you’ve been harvesting a lot of artichokes. I’m impressed, I had such low expectations for you.”

As he takes the tote from you, you mumble something under your breath. “I’m impressed your ego allowed you to have any expectations for me at all…”

“What was that, Ovenist?”

You straighten yourself up and watch what you say next. He can easily not allow you to search the shop if you give him attitude, after all. “I said thanks for that and all….”

Keh raises an eyebrow at you, maintaining his Cheshire cat grin. “I’ll let you look around my shop, even though I still don’t want you here. But before you go wrecking it, do you have anything to show me or tell me?”

As he looks down at you into your eyes, you gulp. Why is he so….intimidating? “Nope, I’m good.”

As he goes back behind the counter to look at his store’s final sales of the day on his tablet, you take a look around his shop, your pen writing down what you see in your investigation. As you look around, you feel so inspired looking at his futuristic décor and technology, and you see his menu board, with his grinning face hanging right next to it. Next you see his grinning face AGAIN holding a pizza right next to his NIT (National Institute of Toppings) degree.

You roll your eyes, and quietly scoff, with a grin. Just what someone wants to do when they eat a pizza here….stare at this man’s smug face!

You look even closer at the pictures again, and you sweat.

That well-taken care of…handsome…gor-

RING RING RING RING!

The sound of a ringing phone (almost a trendy, futuristic ringing) brings you out of your trance and Keh answers. “Keh-lifornia Pizza Kitchen; the home of the world’s most renowned pizza….ah, you’d like to place a catering order for tomorrow? Of course you do, I’m the only shop in town that can properly fulfill that kind of order….”

You multi-task between looking around his shop and listening to his conversation, and boy, Keh is as smug on the phone as he is in person. With your notebook, you look around. After you see the trophies on the wall and take note of them, you go behind where Keh is standing to try to reach up to pull a rope, but have trouble. It appears to be too high up, and you jump up, groaning. As Keh continues to chat with the potential customer on the phone, he notices you struggling.

“Hold on one moment…” He puts the phone on hold, and, with his 6’3 height, easily pulls the rope up and showcases what’s behind the curtain. He grins down at you. “You remind me of a cat trying to reach into a tree. Quickly look around, Ovenist. I need to lock the shop up very soon.”

As he returns to the phone call, you roll your eyes and look around, taking note of what you see. Special sauces in test tube bottles, fancy cooking tools imported from Italy, and some sort of group of papers (you put these in your backpack to analyze later, as they may be important for the case and cannot be read quickly). You look around for more things when some fancy envelope on top of the oven catches your eye.

What’s with that fancy envelope? Who is he writing to?

You didn’t dare ask for help again, even though it sounded like Keh was off the phone now. You jumped up really high to grab the letter and look at the front.

“To Michael…from Angelica..”

You drop your jaw, as well as the letter. You grip your notebook tight.

Angelica Bechamel?? What is he doing writing to HER??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Footsteps approach you, and soon, Dr. Keh walks by with the artichokes he was bringing to the kitchen. He sees your jaw open before you quickly close it.

“What’s with you? You look as though you’ve come to the realization that you’ll never have a pizza parlor as magnificently sumptuous as mine.”

You shrug. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m almost finished searching!”

He looks at the ground….seeing the letter. “Ah, I see you’ve found my letter from Angelica.”

You put your notebook down and cross your arms. He’s just coming right out with it! “Yeah, I did. It all makes sense now…”

He looks at you, curiosity in his eyes. “Oh, does it now?”

You nod, animatedly. There are butterflies in your stomach now, but it’s not like you can escape. You stutter out your next words with anxiety. “Yep, I totally knew you two were going out. You guys are SUCH a perfect match, aren’t you? That Pizzagram hashtag was so accurate.”

His curiosity in his eyes turns into wide eyes for a few seconds, then he chuckles loudly. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m in love with my former rival??”

“Well yeah! Who writes letters to each other these days unless you guys are star-crossed lovers? And that envelope must’ve cost as much as a week’s worth of rent in the city!”

Keh puts his hands on his hips. “I see. That’s your naïve assumption, is it? That only lovers write letter to each other, hmm? And pray tell, Ovenist, did you even look inside the letter? Or are you simply judging the letter by it’s envelope?”

You knew you didn’t read it, but….you feel like you didn’t need to since you pretty much saw everything. Who writes a letter to someone that closed their family business down?? ‘Hey Dr. Keh, thanks for closing my business. You really ARE the Master Ovenist! Talk soon! Love, Angelica’

“I…no, why would I read it?”

“Because then you would’ve seen that inside the letter were….business matters being discussed. Much to your chagrin, people tend to still compose letters to each other in modern times as emails are not very….confidential, if you will. And I am a much sought-after man after all, this tiring investigation aside….”

You look up at him in confusion. “Business matters?”

Keh grins down at you. “Nothing for a current rival to be concerned with….at least for right now anyway….let’s just say you should enjoy your little gravy train while you still can…”

You look down and sigh, with yet another worry in your head for the future. “Well fine….forget I said anything..gotta go!”

As you try to leave, Keh stops you.

“Where are you going so fast? Now I have a question for you…”

You look up at him in fear. Perhaps this is where he reveals himself to be that handsome villain from the movies that will tell you that you know too much, and that you must be…disposed of somehow…

”….w-what?”

“Why were you so upset to find a letter from Angelica of all people? I write to colleagues all the time, even those I went to NIT with….you seem very upset I am writing to her specifically….”

You blush, swallowing. “I-I don’t know, I-I just don’t like her, and just think that she’s a horrible person, and…”

“And I’m not? Is that what you were going to say, Ovenist?”

He’s caught you. The man has the highest degree you can get at any university, so he’s nowhere near stupid! Now you’re in trouble….

“No, not that, I didn’t say that! I-“

He smiles again, but this time….it’s almost a smile that….isn’t punchable this time? Instead, it almost looked….delighted?

“I can’t believe it, Ovenist….you’re JEALOUS, aren’t you?”

The blush on your face is even more red now, with red anger in your eyes added on. “No way! Why would I be jealous of you? Are you insane?”

He crosses his arms and grins. “Hmmph. Well you can’t be jealous of my pizza making skills, since you think your mediocre pizza is so much better for some reason. You’re still delusional as of this point. Perhaps….it’s something else….”

You start to shyly rub the back of your neck.

 “Ovenist….you’re attracted to me in some way, aren’t you?”

With sweat dripping off your forehead, you grab your notebook and run out of Keh’s shop and drive away. You ran out at super fast speed, that you don’t even realize that Keh has chased you outside, looking on as you drive away in the pouring rain…

You also don’t realize….he’s holding your pen you left behind….

[trivialbob]

This turned out well.

Home Run Inn is my favorite frozen pizza brand. It's also the most expensive ($10.49) pizza at the grocery store and never goes on sale like other brands. The stores by my house only carry sausage or pepperoni HRI pizzas.

The other day I went to Walmart instead of my preferred grocery store. I had been in the mood to shop somewhere besides my usual Cub or Lunds&Byerlys. There’s Target too, but it doesn’t appeal to me as much as the first two stores.

The Walmart I chose is chaotic, messy, and crowded. There's always a squad car parked near the front door. I felt up for an adventure.

Walmart had the HRI pizzas for $6.49. Holy cow! Prices on other things were pretty nice compared to Cub. V8 juice at Cub is $4.89, but was $4.00 at Walmart.

Walmart also carries the cheese HRI. Which is what brings me to today's blog post.

Some time ago I got on the HRI email list. Occasionally the company sends out "recipes." I put the word in quotes because they don’t show how to make a HRI pizza from scratch. What it is though is more along the lines of what I like to do if I’m not feeling ambitious.

HRI suggests different toppings to place on the cheese pizza. Not the typical things you find at Dominos, but unusual or uncommon ingredients. The recipes are easy, says the guy making dinner by placing a frozen disk into a toaster oven.

This one is Mexican Street Corn pizza. I had all the topping ingredients on hand already. The directions are simple. The results were delicious. I'm going to have to try some of HRI's other "recipes."

[smoshidiot]

hey guys: i ranked every smosh video

yes, every. single. smosh video. (every main channel sketch from 2005-2017 + 2023)

here it is under the cut if for some damn reason you're curious

♡ ABSOLUTE FAVES ♡ Paranormal Easy Bake Oven Sleepwalking Disaster Mortal Kombat Theme Food Battle 2006 Food Battle 2023 The Legend of Zelda Rap Axe Murderer Battleship Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Theme Boxman's Girlfriend Pokemon Theme Ian's Birthday Anthony Gets a Haircut Pokemon Theme REVENGE That Damn Neighbor Assassins Creed 3 Song My Dead Friend Boxman 2.0 Boxman Smosh Short 1: Dolls Unitarded A Very Hairy Situation w/Billy Mays Anthony is Mexican Left Handed Magic Keyboard Food Battle 2007 That Damn Yard Sale Four Years Foreplay Pokemon In Real Life Stuck in a Toilet My Mom's AMAZING Video Sex Ed Rocks Going to the Mountains Stop Copying Me! Cursed Magic 8 Ball We Rule High School Dixon Cider Smosh the Movie Real Death Note Firetruck I Broke My Foot 1 Hour Special Ghostmates Food Battle 2008 The Ultimate Shoedown WTF! I'm Old! Food Battle 2010 Dolls: 10 Years Later The Real Party Song Kiss Currency PRETTY DAMN GOOD

Smash Rap Molester Moon Hand Bomb Sleeping Pill Disaster My Grandpa's Dirty Secret Food Battle 2011 Quest for the Scooter Smosh Found Dead Garrett's Blog How Not to Act on a First Date Longest Staring Contest Ever Extreme Sleepover Hardcore Max Real Voodoo Doll He's Driving Me Crazy First Person Shooters Suck Drink Your Own Piss Parents SuckWe're Stuck Together We Finally Released Our Banned Video Boxman for President Cat Soup I Caught Every Pokemon Ian is Dangerous Ian's First Girlfriend Ian Gets Lucky Manspider Happy Cow Food Battle 2012 Pizza Zombies Food Battle 2013 Evil Fortune Cookie Hardcore Max 2 Food Battle 2014 License Test Toy Airplane Food Battle X Finger Guns Google Glass SUCKS My Mutant Rash The NEW Smosh TV Show That Damn Shower EDITOR! Camp in a Van Sexual Sun Every Smosh Video Ever Addicted to Selfies Hide and Seek My Best Friend is a Robot How Google's Space Ship Failed Business Boy Emoji Curse Human Pokemon Battle Rejected Zelda Games We're Stuck in Fan Fiction

I LIKED THIS ONE

A Hairy Situation w/ Billy Mays Anthony's Death That Damn Prison Break Anthony's Resurrection Evil AI Tried to Kill Me We Summoned a Demon Help I Became an NPC Stranded Transformers Theme How Not to Make a First Impression The Best Car EVER Reunited? The HauntingMale Model Replacement Needed Easy Step April First Evil Chain Letter Power Rangers Theme Life as Ghosts Ep 1-4 Crybaby I'm Not Racist Pokemon In Real Life 2 The BEST Bottled Water Meeting My Identical Twin I Killed the Tooth Fairy Guys' Guide to Hugging Guys My Real Pet Pikachu Homeless Millionaire The Ditto - Movie Trailer Meat In Your Mouth I Love Lou Ferigno Anthony Poses for Playgirl?! Vader and Me Killer Teddy Bear That Damn Punishment Arm Wrestling TO THE DEATH If Superheroes Were Real Worst Twist Endings Ever I'm Naked Pokemon In Real Life 3 How to Cover Up a Murder The World's First Internet Tutorial Motion Games Suck I'm Possessed By a Demon Addicted to Honey Boo Boo Child My New Best Friend is a Robot My Weird Addiction Food Battle 2013 Assassins Creed 4 Song So Many Hickies Guns Suck My Morning Routine Guy's Guide to Being Manly Jurassic Pokemon Magic iPad 21 Things I'd Rather Do Than Smoke Netflix Rap Video Game Items In Real Life My Hot Online Girlfriend Murder Party

[ehlihr]

happy pride to the contractor who came to our garage sale and wanted to buy our pizza oven. unhappy pride to his husband who he called and told him not to buy it though. hope those two are having gay pizza fridays though he was nice

[bbqgenerals]

Get the Best Deals on Ooni Pizza Ovens Sale at BBQ Generals | Limited Time Offer!

Experience the convenience and quality of the Ooni Pizza Oven Sale. Whether you're a pizza lover this oven is perfect for creating delicious meals outdoors. Shop now and enjoy incredible savings on this must-have cooking equipment.

[moneyalphanews]

Ooni slashes 20% off ALL pizza ovens in Black Friday sale

Ooni slashes 20% off ALL pizza ovens in Black Friday sale

FOR Black Friday the pizza oven aficionados, Ooni, is slashing 20% off all items sitewide.The sale kicked off this week with discounts across almost everything on the website, including a range of cooking accessories. Read Full Text

[aintenisiki]

🐩 ————————🐩

Title: Home alone, but not quite. Fandom: The Nanny Summary: Fran and Maxwell leave Gracie home alone for the weekend to go to Paris (because what else do these two dorks do?), trusting their responsible teenager to keep everything under control. What could go wrong? (Spoiler: Nothing. Because Gracie is a pro… at calling a cleaning service and ordering pizza.)

Genre: Comedy, found family, the nanny banter Word count: 2,649 Warnings: Heavy use of sarcasm, overprotective Fran, and a Gracie who might just be smarter than everyone combined.

Why read?

• It’s The Nanny, cmon!! You’ll get all the classic Fran sass, and a little of Gracie’s growing independence, and of course, Maxwell’s obliviousness (be serious, is it really that nanny without that dumb hunk?)

• Guaranteed to make you laugh and maybe feel a little nostalgia for 90s sitcom family chaos.

No actual pizza was harmed in the making of this fic, but your stomach might growl by the sheer amount of times it was mentioned

Excerpts :

Gracie: ”Fran, I’m sixteen. I think I can go a few days without you capsizing the house.” ———— Niles: *”Don’t worry, Fran— she’s had excellent role models! remind me, how does the oven work again?”*

Fran: ”Hey! I know how to work an oven! It’s the big hot box, right?” ———— Fran: “Negotiations? Sweetheart, I’ve been negotiating with you for years. If I’d known I was competing with stock prices, I would’ve brought Val along. At least she knows how to show a girl a good time… even if her idea of a good time involves double coupons at Pathmark.”

————

Highlights: 💄 Fran comparing Maxwell’s work addiction to a Macy’s sale on Black Friday (it’s kinda true tho) 🍕 Gracie ordering an ungodly amount of pizza and somehow getting away with it 🏠 The house cleaner Sadie, who low-key knows more than she lets on 🤔 Maxwell setting his phone aside for more than 5 minutes (!!!) 👗 Gracie proving she’s more responsible than anyone thought… or is she?

If you like banter, and just a tiny bit of teenage mischief, then check out this fic on AO3!!

[withoutalice]

max eats so much it unbelievable to anyone watching. he can't help it and it makes him sick.

whether it's buying out all the sugar cookies or all the caramel popcorn or stacks of frozen pizzas; pastries on sale and boxes of donuts, as much pasta that can be made in a 4 gallon pot; huge bottles of condiments like mayo and ranch, it's probably only going to last him a couple days

(tw for health complications, using the bathroom and sui-ideation)

he wakes up and his brain is already trying to kill him. he doesn't get good sleep from nightmares anyway, but the waking moments are worse. his thoughts are so loud and he has to distract himself or he's scared he'll do something bad. he can't be a threat again.

He grabs the bag of donuts and starts shoveling them in, mouth thick with dough, roof of his mouth burning from the gluten and sugar. it lessens the intrusive thoughts. he eats quietly, sitting on the floor. once they're all gone he grabs his next snack, possibly energon soda, thick and syrupy. he attempts to sit as his table, but the chair crumbles. it shocks him into sobbing, so he silences himself with the drink. (this is the third chair he's broken, he swore he'd never let it happen again but it did and he wants to die over it)

that's only his breakfast. lunch is another box of cookies. but he cant just have something sweet, he needs savory. he chooses a frozen ready-bake lasagna. he snacks on a large bag salty chips while he waits in front of the oven. the snacks all gone even before the oven beeps, and he rubs his belly anxiously. once it beeps he pulls it out of the oven, waits a minute for it to cools, then eats it wetly and loudly on the tile floor infront of the oven. he won't risk breaking more furniture.

he's happy that he gets into a food coma until dinner, when he's asleep because his body can't adjust to the sugars its all better. [____] can't get him here, its like heaven.

If only waking up felt good. he wakes up ravenous, body shaking and cramping because of the sugar dropping. he whimpers and whines when he quickly pours juice down his intake. he feels like pizza for dinner. maybe some ramen noodles as well. he starts with boiling the water and heating the pizza just like he did for the lasagna. it'll take longer for these items to cook so max runs a system check.

max realizes that he has to go back to his washracks, his oil pan full from the liquids and sodas. he steps in there to void really quickly, struggling with aim due to his size. he decides to step under some solvent really quickly and wash up. when he exits he finds himself face to face with his dreaded mirror.

he can barely recognize himself and wants to extinguish his own spark because of his weight. close to dropping dead from my habits anyways, he thinks to himself. no point in making a mess, his brain whispers when he looks at his gun. looking at his self inflicted and war scars, the thoughts of the prison come flooding back. he shatters the mirror in reflex and sobs, moving back to the kitchen as fast as he can.

He knows he's eating himself to death; and the food is welcomed even more now than ever.

[re-bec-ca-ann]

New Year's Eve, 1986

Summary: Steve cooks dinner for The Party on New Year's Eve while wearing his mother's old "Kiss The Cook" apron.

Read on AO3.

Artwork by the talented @yendts​!

The apron isn’t even his. His dad had given it to Steve’s mom when he was in grade school as a joke. Cooking was a rare affair in the Harrington household, but when the nanny was out sick or unavailable due to prior commitments, Mrs. Harrington would muster the will to prepare a bowl of cereal or a plate of scrambled eggs and toast for her son before he ran out the door to catch the bus. Regardless of the dish's simplicity, she was adamant about wearing an apron to avoid staining her fancy silk shirts or lace-adorned blouses. Up until a certain point, before Steve was deemed old enough to use a stove or face a full day of school on a single granola bar, she would entertain his insistence at planting a boyish peck on the apple of her cheek when she hooked the apron on her neck and secured the strings around her fine waist. As Steve grew in age, height, and ability, those light and heartwarming moments between mother and son became less and less frequent. By high school, he was relying on chalky protein bars in the morning, school lunches, and cold pizza or TV dinners that required a microwave and a quick stir. 

Things are different now. Hawkins is different. Steve is different. 

The town, while no longer the gateway to hell, borders on desolation. Those wealthy enough to vacate put their houses on the market or took the hit and fled within days and even hours of the supposed earthquake—including Steve’s parents. He came home one day following a shift at Family Video to find a FOR SALE sign pitched in the front yard without a word from his parents. Robin helped him box his belongings and Eddie offered the wide belly of his van to transport his belongings to a two-bedroom apartment in his price range. 

So while many have retreated to supposed greener pastures, The Party remains. Steve’s not certain Hawkins will be his home forever, but for now, it’s where he needs and wants to be. The determination to see Dustin, Max, Lucas, and even Mike fucking Wheeler survive high school and live out their weird, awkward, and nerdy teenage years with some semblance of peace keeps him steady and focused. And the distraction of caring keeps the pain that nips at his heels from rising any higher. 

That’s why tonight, on New Year’s Eve, he isn’t getting blasted at a bar or cozying up with some stranger at a house party. Instead, he’s in his cramped apartment kitchen managing a nearly full stove and a blistering oven while “Manic Monday” by The Bangles plays on the radio. Sweat is beading at his temples along his hairline from the forced warmth the appliances are emitting. He uses the tea towel draped across his broad shoulder to dab the moisture up before snatching the wooden spoon that’s laying across the bubbling water to stir the softening pasta. He’s not sure if everyone even likes chicken alfredo or what teen will stomach a side of roasted broccoli, but he knows Max is hardpressed for a homecooked meal, Robin likes to consider herself cultured and will force down anything, and there’s nothing a quick swat to the side of Dustin’s big head can’t cure. As for Eddie, he seems content to scarf down whatever he happens upon—dry cereal, lukewarm beer, a gourmet meal, a can of cold beans. The guy eats like he’s not sure when the opportunity will present itself again—and doesn’t that make Steve’s insides twist and his heart clench. 

They arrive in a flurry. Cold air from the hallway rushes into the kitchen every time the door is shoved open without a knock. At this point, they all have keys, Steve both desperate to avoid silence and eager to give them all a getaway when needed. Sure, he regrets the decision on the occasion that Dustin uses it to host a game of Dungeons and Dragons without warning, but he doesn’t mind when those impromptu game nights lead to Eddie playing a new record for Steve in the living room after the campaign comes to a close. In those instances, it’s common for Steve and Eddie to doze off on the blue plaid couch given to him by Robin’s parents until one of them jerks awake from a nightmare or a neighbor slamming a door shut. More often than not, Steve is the one to wake, and after he chugs a glass of water in hopes of settling his nerves, he grabs the sherpa blanket from the hall closet and drapes it across Eddie’s prone form.

He doesn’t know who will stay tonight, but he used what was left of his last paycheck to buy a few more blankets and pillows just in case he has a full house of drowsy kids and friends. 

They all greet Steve in their own unique and annoying ways. 

“Is that broccoli I smell? Steve, my mom feeds me enough vegetables, dude.” Dustin complains with a whiny tone. 

Lucas tells him about what basketball skill he’s on the verge of mastering; Erica rolls her eyes with so much piss and vinegar that it has him questioning how she hasn’t lost an eyeball yet. 

Max grunts out a “hey” as she uses a cane to maneuver the small space. 

The carpool crowd of the Wheeler siblings, Byers siblings, El, and Argyle patter in with such a subdued and quiet energy that he barely notices until Jonathan’s pat on the back causes him to crane his neck around. 

Before he can turn back to the simmering alfredo sauce, Robin is lifting herself onto the only space of open, clean countertop next to him. She gives his shoulder a flick, sticks a finger in the sauce, offers a nod of approval, and starts yammering about her day with more details than his brain can compute. Regardless, he does his best to keep up and nods when he loses track of the narrative. 

Eddie is the last to arrive, and Steve certainly notices enough to turn around and away from the steaming stove. The metalhead shoots through the door like a loose canon, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he kicks off his weathered sneakers. They land half on the mat and half on the tiled floor as he announces his presence with an abundance of zest and enthusiasm. Nancy catches sight and bends down to shift them over. Steve laughs and turns back to the sink where he needs to drain the industrial-size amount of fettuccine. 

“Hold up,” Robin quips, voice a whisper but tone alarmed. Against his better judgment, Steve freezes when he realizes that what he’s wearing is the catalyst for her surprise. When he has anyone over for dinner, he typically finishes cooking prior to them entering the apartment. 

Shit, he thinks, glancing down at the apron with a grimace. 

Everyone erupts into either howls of laughter or fake gags. He flicks Dustin’s hat off of his head and scowls at Mike. His middle finger is raising on its own accord, but El shifts into his line of vision and pushes onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. His hand drops and he smiles at the genuine sweetness he discovers on El’s face. 

“Thank you for cooking for us, Steve,” she says without preamble. 

“Yeah, my perfect-haired dude,” comes Argyle’s deep, drawn-out voice as he steps forward and into Steve’s space. “Many thanks for opening your humble abode up to us.” The kiss lacks the gentleness of El’s, but it’s full of unhindered appreciation. The shock of it brings a warmth to the apples of Steve’s cheeks. 

No one else seems to be getting in line so Steve coughs to clear his head and the air. “Right, uh,” he mumbles out. “Food should be done shortly, so grab a drink and sit the hell down—and try not to break anything,” he finishes with a pointed look at Mike and Dustin.

Before he can spin on his heels and hide his face from view, Eddie’s doe eyes latch on to his. His usual pale skin has a dusting of color that mirrors the blush wine Nancy is uncorking and he’s tugging at the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. The thing that really makes Steve’s stomach swoop, however, is the intensity that’s swirling in the metalhead’s brown irises. They both swallow and drop one another’s gazes. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Robin’s mouth is slightly ajar. “Jeez, Steve,” she grits out, this time actually in a whisper just for their ears. “Here I am still working on getting my first kiss from a girl, and you’ve got a freakin’ queue going. Step right up! Take your pick! Come one, come all! The boy wonder is awaiting with his pouty lips and brooding stare.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head at her antics but his face turns a little sour after a moment. “There’s only one person I’m hoping will be in that line at midnight, Robs.” 

“I know, I know,” she acknowledges. “Don’t play dumb though. Did you see his face? I’m surprised he didn’t lunge like a rabid dog or melt into the floor and become a permanent fixture," she comments. “By the way, very tactile selection of cooking attire.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief. “I didn’t wear this on purpose!”

“Sure, you didn’t,” she quips with an exasperated eye roll. “I believe you.”

“Screw you, Robs!”

Before sitting down at the table, Steve makes sure to shuck off the apron and hang it on the handle of the oven. 

Dinner involves a cacophony of slurping, happy hums of contentment, and the boys discussing what movies they want to see next year and complaining about their fast-approaching return to the halls of Hawkins High with irritated digs from Max and Erica sprinkled in. Throughout most of it, Steve finds himself observing. Robin talks between bites of food to a smirking Nancy. Jonathan and Argyle are looking longingly at the food and savoring each bite—a telling glaze clouding their respective eyes. Eddie seems to be doing the same as Steve. Taking it all in. He knows the metalhead has his bandmates, but this mismatched, makeshift gang takes the cake. Steve doesn’t try to even understand it. He doesn’t know why but it works. They work. 

From across the table, their eyes cross paths once again and pause. It’s always hard to peel his gaze away from Eddie—especially as of late. They’ve grown closer. Spending more and more time in each other’s atmospheres. Sometimes with no real reason aside from having nowhere else to go or not wanting to be anywhere else. Steve’s had friends, mates he’d throw parties with, toss a football around with, grab a burger and fries with. But this is something all its own. 

Robin is his best friend. Someone he spills his guts to on the daily. Eddie is on the cusp of that, but there’s another layer there that Steve is working through at a rate and ease he never expected. He hates Eddie’s taste in music. He hates the volume at which he listens to it. He hates how much his energy never seems to wane. But he also likes Eddie. A lot.

When the realization made itself known, it slammed into his chest and clobbered him upside the head. Another theoretical concussion to really scramble his brain and tear through every belief he had about himself. Robin was there to help him through it. Determined to convince Steve that the same instant acceptance he offered her was what he deserved too. The uncertainty still appears from time to time, but he’s proud of himself. He feels as though the hard edges crafted by his parents and his former coaches and the Country Club of Hawkins have been all but chipped away to reveal someone he recognizes and wants to get to know better. And that someone appreciates and longs for the companionship of a woman or a guy—or at least Eddie Munson.

He knows he’s about to trip face-first over the line between what’s an OK amount of time to hold someone’s stare, but Eddie has resorted to sticking his tongue out in a messy attempt to catch a noodle that’s dangling from his fork. Steve decides it's gross and endearing. He keeps his responding smile small and feels child-like joy blossom in his chest. It begs him to snatch a piece of broccoli from his plate and throw it at the other man. Against his well-trained judgment, he does just that. The floret gets caught in a frizzy curl and hangs mid-air. The look of feigned offense that blooms on the metalhead’s face ignites a chocked-out laugh in Steve’s throat. It’s loud enough to catch the attention of everyone at the table. Moments later, broccoli is catapulting in all directions. It lands on plates, in the sink, down shirts, and on the floor. Steve puts a stop to the chaos when he spots Mike grabbing for a noodle coated in alfredo sauce.

During clean-up efforts, Eddie saddles up behind a kneeling Steve to pluck a piece of food from his chestnut mane and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll give it to you, Harrington,” he comments with a playful husk to his voice, “you make food that’s good enough to eat and wear.” 

“Gross, Eddie!” hollers Mike at the interaction. “You probably just consumed at least half of a can of hairspray!”

Eddie shrugs and says, “I’ve eaten worse,” and saunters into the living room. 

They’ve been doing this for a few months now. Engaging in exchanges that border on innocent and flirtatious. Eddie gives just as good as Steve, if not better if the former jock tallies the number of times he’s left sputtering or with a warmth seeping across the surface of his skin. Steve knows Eddie is gay. Eddie is smart about not letting that flag fly in the “real” world—he has to be in Hawkins—but in the safe confines of The Party or even at The Hideout, Eddie allows it to wave with ease. 

At first, Steve suspected that the metalhead was just a flirt or found joy in making other people squirm. But Robin was quick to correct his thinking. Noting how there was a clear difference. While Argyle loved up on each and every person willing to receive his affections, Eddie reserved his heated lines, looks, and touches for Steve and Steve only. After a while, the former jock couldn’t deny Robin’s observations. And yet, there’s still a doubtful piece of him that wonders if it’s all a joke. A means to an easy laugh at the expense of Steve’s forgotten macho persona. And the thing is, Steve wouldn’t blame Eddie. He gets that he was an entitled, hotshot asshole. But the hurt and disappointment that bubble beneath the surface at the possibility are so very real. 

For the remainder of the night, the group plays board games in the living room, using the wobbly coffee table to roll dice and move pawns. There isn’t enough space for everyone to gather around it, so they team up and take turns. Eventually, Steve exits to the kitchen with Robin and Nancy. They sit at the table, Nancy telling Robin about what classes she’s taking next term at Emerson. Steve tries to listen, but he notices the pile of dirty plates in the sink and the urge to not wake up to them in the morning is enough to pull him away from the conversation. He lets the water heat up and reaches for the apron. He’s taking a chance at being the butt of another joke, but he’s ruined one too many shirts to questionable stains at this point for his minimum wage job to handle. He’s halfway through the stack of dishes when the music sounding from the radio comes to a halt and he hears a cassette being clicked into the tape player. The chords, the bass, the beat—everything is heavy from the start. Steve guesses it’s Metallica, but he knows it’s Eddie at the helm. 

He wants to yell at him to turn it down, fearful of his ancient neighbors, but Dustin’s joyous hoot at the song choice drags the demand back down his throat. It’s New Year’s Eve, he thinks—they can suffer for one night. 

He imagines the pair thrashing around the space, throwing their bodies onto the couch. As they get older, Steve feels more and more like a parent to Dustin. Not a babysitter. They joke about him being the “mom” of the group and to be honest, Steve has stopped fighting the label. He kinda is. He’s not sure where that leaves Eddie. Ever wild and whimsical. He supposes he’s the fun guardian. Who keeps watch but not in a meddling manner or worrying way. They’re a good team when he thinks about it. 

He must get so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize someone is next to him drying the clean but dripping plates until an elbow is poking into his side. 

Eddie grins at him.

“Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Steve rolls his eyes and lets a smirk tug at his lips. “Never.”

They finish the dishes in somewhat silence, Eddie bobbing his head to whatever hellish tune comes on next and flicking drops of water at Steve. The former jock is seconds away from spraying the water flow into his face when Mike’s voice screeches, “Ten minutes and counting! Get in here or you’re gonna miss it, losers.”

El shushes him, and Robin and Nancy grab their glasses of either wine or champagne from the table and head to where the group is quieting down to listen to the news broadcast live from Times Square in New York City. Steve from three years ago might have convinced himself that he liked the noise and the crowds and the flashy outfits and expensive liquor, but now, between his abused skull and his cracked-open heart, he’s confident in his whereabouts. 

While Eddie tosses the plates with a carelessness that threatens to make Steve’s eye twitch into the cupboard, Steve dries off his hands and moves to remove the apron. The metalhead reaches out to stop him halfway through, the back undone, but the apron still hanging loosely from his neck. Steve looks down. The hand sprawled out on the center of his chest is adorned with chipped black nail polish and clunky sterling silver rings. The one on his middle finger is of a bat that Dustin and Steve chipped in to get him for a graduation present.

Steve pulls his gaze up to search Eddie’s face for an explanation. The same heat he witnessed in the other’s expression earlier in the evening is back. 

“I never got a chance,” Eddie says softly between them. 

A chance? A chance to what? To kiss the him? 

Steve worries that his own silence is the reason for the hesitation that’s mixing with the heat in Eddie’s eyes now. But what if he’s reading it wrong? The possibility tightens his throat with building pressure. Still, seeing the other man uncertain and unsure reminds him too much of the terrified version he first tangled with in the boat house—so much so that he pushes past it and takes a leap. 

“You don’t need the apron’s permission.”

Eddie blinks, the fearful fog lifting from his eyes. “No?”

Steve’s bravery bounds. “I want you to kiss me, Munson.”

Eddie nods as if to confirm he’s gathering and comprehending what’s being communicated. The metalhead’s hand is still on his chest, and Steve feels the need to ground himself, so he grips the edge of the counter with his left hand and wraps the fingers of his right around the other man’s wrist. Eddie bunches the material of the apron at the touch. 

“Midnight is,” Eddie breathes out, glancing at the clock on the wall, “eight minutes away. We could wait.”

Steve shakes his head, somewhat disbelieving at his own transparency when he replies, “Don’t want to.” 

Their lips meet like a wave crashing along the unsuspecting shore. They move with and against one another, pushing and pulling, trying to claim and be claimed. The heat originally reserved for their gazes has transferred to their mouths and tongues and teeth and hands. Steve releases his hold on the sink and the metalhead's wrist to instead grip Eddie’s hips. Eddie slides his palms and fingers to hook around Steve’s neck and tug at the loop of the apron. 

Without much thought, Steve turns and lifts the metalhead up onto the wet counter. Eddie gasps and scowls before diving back in to reconnect their lips. Steve gets a nip to his bottom lip that he suspects is payback. Payback he’s willing and grateful to endure.

By the time they truly separate and break for intakes of air that are longer than two or three seconds, Dustin announces the start of the countdown. 

“Eddie! Steve! Get in here!”

Eddie hops down from his perch and grabs Steve’s hand and tugs him to follow.

The kiss that stems from the clock striking twelve is gentle in comparison to their first. It happens on the outskirts of the living room, where the kitchen tile transitions starkly into the plush carpet. Those who aren’t cheering, shaking noise makers, or exchanging platonic embraces or romantic pecks, take note of the two men with squeals of surprise and yips of amusement.

When they pull away from each other, they’re both red in the face and laughing. 

“Happy New Year’s, Ed.” 

“Happy New Year’s, big boy,” the metalhead replies, grin broad as ever. “Guess ‘86 really was my year.”

It’s Max who gets the last word in though, gritting out a disgruntled “gross.”

[hasufin]

More whining about enshittification

A friend and I are planning to go camping shortly, and this got me looking for some stuff I kinda want but don't need.

Now, a very useful tool for camp cooking - well, when you're not doing backpacking, which is a different beat - is the Dutch oven, or as it was known historically, the camp kettle.

This is a very old design, used for baking when an oven was not available. The legs allow it to be set on coals without burning the food inside. The high rim on the lid allows you to shovel coals on the list and thus have even heat throughout, and the wire handle makes it relatively easy to use a hook to move the entire thing off the fire. As far as I'm aware this design has not changed in centuries.

(Mind, there's a household version of the dutch oven which lacks many of these features, as they get in the way when you are actually in a kitchen, but those are comparatively modern)

Now, using this isn't too hard but you do want some additional tools. If you're baking in it, you do want a baking pan which will fit inside, and a trivet to keep the pan from resting directly on the bottom of the kettle. As so happens I have those already.

The other thing you want is what in my youth we called dutch oven pliers. They're bent pliers, like channel locks, but more bent and without the adjustment grooves. They also have a built-in hook on one of the handles so you can hook the wire handle.

With these pliers you can lift the entire kettle, grab the lid, and take baking pan out of the hot kettle. They're simple but convenient.'

I have been able to find them for sale at one Boy Scout store. In Barbados. There are some ebay listings, but those are long gone.

Instead when I search for dutch oven pliers I get three things:

Pizza tray pliers

These are sorta-ish able to remove the baking pan from the kettle. But notice they're actually made for moving flat baking trays. They are also generally made for small hands - uncomfortable for me in the best of times, utterly unusable if I'm wearing welding gloves, as I might if I'm handling cast iron over a campfire.

These weird not-trivet things

What the heck are THESE? They're too tall to use as a trivet inside the dutch oven, they're not really effective for pliers. I have no idea what they're supposed to accomplish, but I'm pretty sure they're bad at it.

And the most popular result: the "dutch oven lid lifter"

Okay, I'll give you. This does exactly one thing, and it's solidly mediocre at it. It's an awkward shape for anything but "I am standing in the open, facing directly at the campfire, and wish to lift the lid straight up while having sufficient arm strength to lift a several kilo chunk of cast iron from half a meter away." But if you meet all of those conditions, sure, I guess. It does nothing else.

None of these items approach the versatility of those dutch oven pliers we had in my youth. And it's vexingly difficult to even show those pliers ever even existed.

One major promise of the Internet was that we could always find obscure things. That if your small town does not have a store which sells dutch oven pliers then you could simply go online and order it.

But capitalism is not centered around giving customers what they want. Why sell one convenient tool which will last forever when you can sell three junk tools which don't quite work?

And so I know exactly what I want, know it has existed in the past, and cannot find it. Because our hellscape does not want to sell me the thing I want.