#the taste is 10/10 but the consistency is a little dry

[coffincoitus]

the almond milk pulp cookieses!! slightly cinnamon flavored due to artistic liberties while making the milk

[rodolfoparras]

Smoke Sprite

Pairing: Captain Price x Trans Male Reader

WC: ca 7k

Synopsis: Price teaches you how to smoke cigars among other things

Content warning: 18+, • MINORS DNI • dry humping • boot worship • boot grinding • verbal degradation • praise • alluded exhibitionism • Sub! Reader • Dom!Price • reference to afab anatomy (sparsely!) • power dynamics • age gap (no specific age stated but in my head it’s like 10 years between them) • no after care

Stand alone/ part of a series:

A/N: The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

First time writing smut too bc at some point we ought to dive into this. Am I right or am I right? Also idk how to do accents, as a non native speaker I have a whole vocab that consist of American and British words and at some point something may sound whack but just rewrite it in your head and enjoy the fic hehe

Also don’t be fooled, you will actually learn about cigars here I did a deep dive for this

Few things were hard to come by when enlisted in the army. One of them being a good night's sleep. It was something you as well as many other soldiers battled with. You’d found that the best way to cope with it was to stay up til your mind was as exhausted as your body and one of the ways you’d  make the time pass was by smoking. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the window sill of the little kitchen provided on base, half way through your third cigarette, wishing your mind would let your body go to bed.

It wasn’t always bad being unable to sleep. Hours you spent awake (albeit against your will)  were also sometimes hours you’d felt the most at peace.

Tonight felt like one of those nights and the peace washed over you in waves, so much so you finally felt like you were ready to head to bed. 

Just as you’re about to follow through with that thought, a sudden noise at the door catches your attention. 

You turn so quickly you almost drop the cigarette you’re smoking, ash falling over you with the motion.  

It’s too dark to see the intruder’s face but you’re still able to see how he freezes in place and quickly raises his hand in defense.

“Relax sergeant” the tension leaves your body when you hear the intruder speak. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was after all one that was on your mind when you couldn’t sleep. “Didn't mean to scare you, was just gonna get something to drink” His voice sounds husky, he’d probably just woken up from his sleep.

You nod your head, as you go to sit down again, taking another drag of your cigarette as you observe the surprise guest. 

His steps are sluggish, head almost dropping as he makes his way over to the fridge and you wonder to yourself if you should turn on some light so he doesn’t trip.

“Don’t know how you can smoke that shit” Price says, somehow managing to express his disdain through his sleep like daze. 

You snort at his words before taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke only to watch it disappear again. 

 “Look who’s talking” you say referring to the cigar that always seemed glued to his hand.

He opens the fridge, seemingly searching for his drink before he takes out a bottle of water. Soon after he makes his way over to the kitchen counter, across from where you’re sitting. The light from outside shines down on him and you can finally see him properly as he leans on the counter and takes a sip of his drink. 

He’s dressed in some gray sweatpants and a matching tank top to go with it. It wasn’t an unusual sight per say. Many times he'd complain about running hot easily so he always dresses lightly when he sleeps.  However that didn’t mean that you were unaffected by it. 

“Seriously they taste like shit and smell bad too”he says before downing the rest of the water. 

“I don’t smoke for the taste”  you say as your eyes wander from his clothes up to his neck, taking notice of the dog tags on him and the way they’re  glistening with the light shining down on them. Your gaze wanders further up, over to where his Adam's Apple lays and how it bobs every time he takes a sip of his drink, until your gaze finally lands on his face. His eyes are half lidded, lips parted and puffy and a flush coats his cheek. It’s clear that he’d just roll out of bed especially with how mussed his hair is. Despite that he looks good, really good actually.

“You should since these will take you out anyway” he says, bottle now discarded on the counter and hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Teach me how to smoke cigars then” You say tossing your cigarette out the window before turning in your seat to face him properly.

Price raised an eyebrow at that.

“What? You can’t sleep, I can’t sleep, might as well do something useful here. Teach me how to smoke cigars”

The older man scratches at his beard in thought before seemingly making a decision.  With a grunt he signs for you to move over and you do as he says. He sits down next to you, one foot propped on the window sill and the other hanging to the side of it.

Price digs his hand into his left pocket,  pulls out a wooden box of something, pops it open before sliding it over to you.

“Take whichever you want, it doesn't matter. You’ll be prepping it anyway”

“Prepping?” You look at him like he’s grown three heads. It's a cigar after all, what is there to prep anyway?

He nudges his head, signaling for you to take one. When you do so, he takes one himself before he closes the box and pockets it again.

“It’s not like a cigarette. You don’t just shove it into your mouth and smoke it. All good things come with preparation and in moderation.” 

“Are we still talking about cigars here “ you grin widely as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Price grunts at your words but doesn’t do much more as he goes into teacher mode.“First thing first, you want to know what you’re working with. That can break or make the experience”

You nod as you look down at the cigar in your hands. However, figuring out what you’re working with wasn’t as easy as it seemed. You’ve smoked for years but cigars were outside of your expertise. 

Price must’ve seen the stupefied look on your face because he says “Don’t look at it like that, lad. It’s a cigar not a ticking time bomb“

“Sorry” you say, shifting in your seat as your free hand fiddles with some loose lint from the sweats you’re wearing. 

“That’s alright. Let’s start with something familiar, yeah?” he mindlessly strokes his beard, brows furrowed in concentration as he tries to think of how to explain it. 

“You lick your cigarettes right? How come you do that?” You’re momentarily stunned by the fact that he’s picked up on this. But his question hits you next and you can’t help but feel embarrassed when you confess. 

“Force of habit I guess” you shrug, rubbing at your neck as your eyes wander from him to some random spot on the window sill. 

Hey, you’re a smoker not a smoke connoisseur. You don’t know the ins and outs of nicotine. 

He sighs heavily and drags his hand down his chin before he speaks  “That’s alright.” he says before he goes to explain. “ It's a form of prepping, not really necessary for cigarettes but some smokers do it. However prepping is essentials for cigars”

He then goes on to raise his arm in the air, giving you a clear view of the cigar in his hand.

“First thing first you do a pinch test, it’s pretty simple really. You pinch it between your thumb and point finger. Do not roll it however. If it’s dry it’ll cause unnecessary friction which in turn will cause more tears in the leaf”

He starts to demonstrate the step. You try to focus but your eyes can’t help but wander all over his hands. 

Despite the cigar being quite big, it looks something akin to a cigarette in his grip and although he’s got a rather delicate grip on the cigar you know just how rough he can be with his hands. You’ve seen it many times out on the field, and have even imagined what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the treatment. His hands always look so big and strong, dusted in chestnut hair and lined with thick blue veins. You can’t help but think of how pretty they look as he demonstrates the step. 

“You still with me, lad?” 

You lick your lips, mouth feeling dryer than any tobacco leaf. “Yeah “

“Now do so with yours. Remember just add some light pressure, it doesn’t need much more than that” he says, once again demonstrating the step. You start to feel a pressure in your chest as heats floods from your head down to your feet. You try to focus on his words but they only seem to add to the lightheadedness you’re feeling. 

“You listening?” He asks, taking note of your dazed expression.

You only manage a hum in response to his question as you go to follow his instructions. “It shouldn’t crackle since they should be properly humidified anyway but it’s always good to know the basics yeah?” He says when you both notice there’s no crackling to be heard from the cigar in your hands.

“Now we cut it. I keep this baby on me at all times “ Price says before he pulls out a pocket knife. 

“There's all types of fancy shit for cutting but the principle is to cut as little as possible rather than the opposite. You just kind of snip it off” he says as he places the knife at the tip and executes the move perfectly.

“Now you try,” he hands it over to you and you can’t help but feel quite confident in this part. The task didn’t seem complicated anyway. But as you go to cut it, it turns out to be much harder than it seemed.  The cut is nothing like Price’s. If anything it’s jaggedy and has the tobacco leaves crackling at the tip. 

 “That’s alright, you can-“

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, you wrap your lips around the tip, allowing your spit to smoothen out any loose pieces. 

“Oh- “ you look up at Price only to see him swallow hard. 

“That’s a good lad” he says, voice sounding deeper when he speaks “was gonna say to not slobber it down in saliva but you seem to know your thing “

Your face feels hot when you go to respond.“Thanks” 

It’s strange- this relationship you got with your captain. At first sight it might seem that you’re the one throwing flirty remarks around here. And he’s the one who acts unphased, or even annoyed at your flirting attempts. But matter of fact is he’s the one making suggestive remarks whether consciously or subconsciously and you’re the one phased by it. You wish you too could be as unphased as him because his recovering time for these types of situations is remarkable, really. 

His voice is void of any previous emotion when he goes to speak again “Now to the last part, we light it”

And of course you try to keep with him. 

“Never thought we’d get to it” you say, hoping and praying you seem just as unphased as he seems . But you can still feel your face burning and your voice slightly wobbling and the intense look he’s giving you isn’t helping you very much either. 

“Hey you wanted me to teach you” Price reminds you with a pointed look. 

“Go on please” you gesture dramatically before leaning back in your seat.

“The way you choose to light it will affect the taste. It’s all a matter of preference so to say “

“And how do you like yours to taste?” Your words come out more suggestive than intended and you can hear Price sucking in a sharp breath, head tilting and his eyes boring into yours when he says “I prefer to take my time with things, enjoy it thoroughly, make the most out of it if you know what I mean”

The mood feels different; stirring in a direction that has nothing to do with cigars and everything to do with something else, something-

“You’ll achieve that with a soft flame”

And it's quickly broken again. 

Price fishes a box of matches out of his pocket, slides it open and takes a few of them before pocketing it again.

“Always use two matches but don’t be fooled, you can’t hurry the process this is just to ensure the cigar burns even. You with me?”

You nod - maybe a bit too eagerly to show him you’re listening, brows furrowed and lips puckered in concentration and if you’d be focused on someone else you’d see the ghost of a smile on Price’s face. 

“You strike the matches and tilt them downwards, then rotate your cigar around the them “

“Like a marshmallow ”  the words slip mindlessly out of your mouth and his eyes widen in surprise before he laughs. 

You feel the tip of your ears go red but smile at what he says next “Fuckin’ hell, sure like a marshmallow “

Instead of saying something else that would result in making a bigger fool of yourself, you choose to do as he says. 

You take two matches from him and attempt to strike them. 

However it feels like the universe is on a mission to make you seem like the biggest fool because for some reason you can’t light up your match. 

After your third failed attempt paired with some curses under your breath Price decides to offer you some help. 

He leaves his place on the window sill, and leaves his cigar in the ashtray to stand behind you instead. But just as he does it, you manage to light them yourself. However for some reason he chooses not to go back to his seat.

“Like that,” you hear him before you see him, and smell his cologne behind the clouds of smoke. 

You try to keep your focus as you slowly rotate the cigar in your hands

“Good lad you’re doing so good,” the words make you feel like a match ignited, burning from your head down to your toes.  

“Is it done?” You don’t know what you’re asking about- the lessons or the torture he’s unknowingly putting you through.

“Ever heard of the word patience, kid?“ he chides and if it weren’t for your close proximity making you feel all funny you’d say something to him.

“Just one more round of matches and you’re good to go yeah?” His voice is gruff and breathy when he speaks, almost akin to the tone he uses when he gives commands on the field. You feel the wisps of hair from his beard brushing across your ear and the heat from the close proximity of your bodies. You chose to nod in response, opting to bite your tongue in fear of saying something you might regret later on. 

Soon you find yourself with a lit cigar in your hands. 

“There now to the last step” the heat quickly disappears as a gust of cold wind creeps onto your skin and you’re sure it’s not because of the open window but rather from the space between your bodies as he goes back to his own seat.  

“The most important rule of smoking- if you’re to remember anything out of this- is to not inhale it but rather take a light drag. Your body and your lungs will be thankful for sparing them, see it as something you slosh around in your mouth rather than shove down your windpipe”

You raise a brow at his choice of words.

“I am not the best teacher, “ he shrugs before picking up his cigar again.  

He puts it between his lips and takes a light drag of it and you can’t help but think that he looks attractive doing it. 

You never thought smoking was attractive. You smoked to ease your nerves and couldn’t wrap your head around what would be so attractive about a little nicotine stick and the awful smell that came along with it. But looking at him now with his eyelids hanging low, head tilted to the side as he exhales the smoke, you finally understand why people thought so. Especially now, with his Adam’s apple on show, dog tags gleaming behind the clouds of smoke and his toned arms flexing every time he goes to take another drag of the cigar. 

“You do the most work in the beginning until you see white smoke. That’s how you know it’s properly lit and you can actually start to enjoy it“ Price’s voice sounds stern when he speaks; like a knowledgeable teacher sharing information to his interested students. And you sure were interested: in more ways than one. 

“Most work in the beginning huh?” You grin wolfishly at him.

“You pull a lot of jokes, kid “ he chuckles as he continuously spins the cigar in his hand. 

Kid. Your nose scrunches at the word  “Not a kid and who said it’s a joke?” 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he tilts his head and rubs his beard as if mulling over something before speaking again.

“You try now”

You nod your head as you attempt to focus on the task at hand. But it isn’t easy,  your eyes flicker from his fingers, to his lips, to the way he sits leaned back in his seat with smoke surrounding him.

Before you know it you’re inhaling the cigar, doing the complete opposite of what he told you and within seconds you feel the smoke hitting you all at once; blurring your vision and sending you into a coughing fit.  

“I told you not to inhale it” he tuts as he leans over to take the cigar from your hands before he goes to pat your back “damn shame you seemed so good at following directions, what happened?”

You try to speak but the burning sensation in your throat cuts you off. His hand is once again on your back rubbing up and down aimlessly before he suddenly gets up and you instinctively grab onto him “I’m just going to get something to drink” he says, repeating his words from before and you nod, allowing him to do so. 

“Here” he says a moment later, pressing a cold water bottle against your cheek.

You flinch away from the cold sensation, but grab it anyway, downing more than half the bottle within seconds. 

“Take it easy or you’ll choke again, boy”

Despite the advice you find yourself unable to slow  down and you down the rest like a man parched. 

He chuckles at your actions and grabs hold of your chin, turning your head to face him. 

“That good?” He asks, eyes shining with both hints of worry and amusement.

You nod in response feeling heat creep up your neck and ears. The feeling intensifies when his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, wiping off any remaining liquid before he pops it in his mouth to lick it off of him. 

“I - I can do better” you croak out, still trying to catch your breath.

“What’s that boy?”

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, braving yourself to speak  “I meant what I said I can do it, let me try again”

His gaze shifts between your eyes and your lips, seemingly making a decision when he goes to speak.

“Alright, come here “  he says before he goes back to his seat on the window sill, cigar tucked back between his lips, and with smoke surrounding him. He looks delectable to say the least. 

As if it were a reflex your body complies to his request, shuffling over to sit closer to him. 

You can feel your knees brushing, smell the scent of his cologne mixing with the cloud of smoke, can even see each and every eyelash on his eye along with  the gray hairs sprinkled across his chestnut beard.

You thought you couldn’t get any closer than this but suddenly he leans further in and your eyes go wide as you watch him. His hand goes to your head,  strokes your hair, and brushes back any loose strands or flies aways before it glides across your cheeks, until finally stopping at your lips. 

“Open up, now” he says, one hand under your chin and the other tapping his cigar against your lips.

“Lets try this again, yeah? You did so well, don't want the lesson to go to waste” You hum in response, parting your lips before wrapping them around the cigar. However you don’t take a drag. Instead you await his command. 

“Remember gently, no need to put much effort into it, yeah?” 

You nod as you put all your focus into doing as he says and finally you manage to take a proper drag of it, enough to taste it and enough to blow it out properly as well.

“Good lad. I knew you could do it “  the look of pride on his face along with his words goes straight to your head. Like the cat that got the cream, you think to yourself.

You go to take another drag of it and as you do he places his hand on the small of your back, soothingly rubbing up and down the length of it. You try to focus on the cigar rather than his touch because you fear that in itself will send you into a coughing fit. But it’s hard to stay focused on the cigar when his hand leaves the small of your back and makes its way up to your neck instead. You’re just about to blow out the smoke when his hand wraps around your neck and gently squeezes it.

You part your lips in surprise and as  you do so smoke leaves your mouth, coming out in little circles that quickly dissipate in the air. Your eyes widen at your little trick and he just chuckles at your reaction, before releasing his grip completely and leaning back a bit.

“Little trick I learnt “ he says innocently, shrugging even before he clears his throat, eyes avoidant of your own but manages a thank you when you pass the cigar back to him.

A rather awkward silence falls over you two as you try to process what happened. Price’s hand around your neck- the shy reaction you got from it- the fact that he knew this trick in the first place. It all hangs in the air like clouds of smoke and puts your mind in daze. It’s hard to snap out of it but once you do you wonder if you should say something or move on to the next subject. Looking at him you can clearly see he’s embarrassed about it so you choose to spare him but you also choose to store this moment in your mind for when you’re in desperate need of a replay.  

“Gotta give it to you, you were right about the taste. It’s pretty nice actually” 

He inhales sharply at that, eyes falling to your lips as he goes to speak “Yeah? Why don’t you describe it to me? Last part of the lesson. Need you to name the flavors ” His hand is now at your thigh, fingertips mindlessly tracing circles onto it and you think it isn’t fair of him. He can clearly see the way your body is reacting to him- to his touches- to his words and he still expects you to function.

You must’ve taken too long to respond because Price’s hand squeezes your thigh in warning “Sergeant” 

“Creamy- it tastes creamy sir “ you stumble over your words but still manage to get out a response. 

He hums in response, hand tightening at your thigh before once again squeezing it to get your attention. “Anything else? Any specific flavor you can name. Go on, take another drag of it“ he says before passing the cigar back to you. For once you’re thankful that your body reacts so easily to his commands. Your head’s far too gone at this point to be able to give your body instructions. 

You take another drag of the cigar, allowing the smoke to coat your tongue before exhaling it. There’s a rich sweetness accompanied with a certain bitterness dancing across your taste buds “Coffee tastes like coffee sir- maybe even hits of almond as well?” you say through batted lashes, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Correct. My favorite” he hums in approval.“You’re a quick learner,huh?” The phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head again but this time you couldn’t care less. This time you'd gladly accept it.  You’d gladly be the cat and you’d gladly take all the cream especially if it was -

Price grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you close. “You know what else is good to learn? “ 

You gasp at the sudden motion and instinctively grab onto him, one hand at his arm, the other barely holding onto the cigar. His voice is dangerously low and breathy and the way his hot breath washes over your neck raises goosebumps all over your body.

You can even feel the tell tale sign of his thick mustache brush up against your neck as he goes to say “subtlety, my boy”  

There’s little to no space between your bodies. He’s so close to you that you can hear his gruff voice forming the words at the back of his throat, and feel how they vibrate against his chest as he speaks them.  Yet you ache to be closer so you grip tighter onto him and press your body closer to his. 

“You were fidgeting around in your seat and barely paying attention to what I was saying. I almost thought you were getting bored of the lesson but that can’t be right now can it? ” 

It's no longer wisps of mustache hair brushing against your neck but rather a full beard trailing up to the spot behind your ear. And every time he goes to speak, it brushes relentlessly against the skin,  leaving burn marks behind him. 

“No- no sir. I’m very eager to learn” your mind’s starting to feel hazy, your breath’s quickening and you can’t help but tighten your grip on him, nails sinking into supple skin. You hear him wince but can’t bring yourself to care nor to loosen your grip. 

There's a nagging voice at the back of your head telling you this is just a wet dream or even worse a hallucination as you lay bleeding out on a field. So to silence it you tighten your hold on him, hoping and praying you aren’t just imaging him.

However he seems very much real because his arm feels firm and flexes under your tight grip. Every time you go to take a breath you smell the scent of smoke and cologne that seem to follow him and all you can see is his broad back and the small curls at the back of his neck. 

“Mm eager you say '' His accent is much thicker now, desire coating his tongue and slurring his words and his tone is playful like you’ve never heard it be before. All of a sudden you feel his fingers at the back of your head, fingers burrowing into the thick mane of hair before he pulls your head up to face him.

“I expect a response when I speak sergeant “ he says, tugging at your hair in warning.

You whimper at the sting, eyes batting up at him as you go to respond to him “Y- yes sir I’m very eager to learn”

Price looks at you with half lidded eyes and with an arrogant smile across his lips as he goes to cup your cheek.  “I suppose someone so eager wouldn’t have any issues repeating the steps we learned today”

“No sir” you manage to spurt out a response as you lean into his touch. 

“That’s a good boy” he says as his thumb caresses your cheek. “So good for me, yeah?” His voice almost sounds like the one he uses on the field when he goes to praise his team, except this one is just a bit lower, more breathier and wraps around endearments only meant for your ears. 

“How about this,”  he begins to say, hand slipping from your cheek, trailing down to your neck and landing on your shoulder. He takes his time to straighten the collar before he speaks again 

“if you can tell me all the steps we went through today” he trails off once again as both of his hands slide down the length of your arms before finally stopping at your thighs where they rub soothing circles onto them. “I’ll reward you for it “  

“Only if you want to, of course” he says, as he goes to take his hands off your thighs. 

“Oh I want to ” you say hurriedly as you grab onto his hand to keep them in place.” A lot, actually” you add in a shaky tone feeling your face heat up at your own words. 

His eyes flare with desire and he takes a sharp breath before he says  “Sit back for me yeah? One leg on each side of the window, need you to sit comfortably for this okay?” 

You do as he says, one foot on the desert ground and the other one on the wooden floor and you automatically lean back on the window frame to make yourself comfortable.

He on the other hand, has one boot clad foot propped on the window sill and the other one hanging to the side of, leaning back comfortably.

Your hands are trembling in your lap, fingers still gripping onto the cigar and you can see goosebumps rising on your bare skin but it’s not because of the cool metal pressing against it or because of the howling wind. It's rather something else and  Price seems to know the very reason behind it because he says.

“You’re shaking my boy are you nervous about presenting?” He asks in a mocking tone, before he takes the cigar from you  and puts it in between his lips. While you’re trembling in your seat he looks as relaxed as ever, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and with an expectant smile on his lips.

“No-no sir” you respond as you squirm under his expecting gaze.

“Get on with it then” he says sharply and you spring into action.

“The first thing you do is prepare your cigar. That can make or break the experience… “ you trail off as you scramble your brain for what to say next. But your train of thoughts is quickly cut off by a sudden pressure on your left leg.

Price’s foot gently nudges your thigh and once again, as if it were a reflex, your body responds to him; legs spreading further apart, to make more room for him.

Suddenly, he starts tapping  his foot impatiently, purposely grazing his boot clad foot against sensitive skin as he waits for you to recite the next step. Despite the sweats you’re wearing, you’re so worked up that every touch feels like he’s grazing bare skin. 

“Go on. I didn’t tell you to stop” he warns as he puts a punishing pressure onto your thigh, harsh sole digging into soft skin and you wince at the impact before you speak. 

“To check if your cigar is moist you use your thumb and point fingers and squeeze - squeeze it from top to bottom” the air is punched out of your lungs, your words breaking up as the boot moves from your thigh to instead rest directly atop of your dick. 

You gasp, fingers grabbing onto the edges of the window sill as your hips buck to get more of the feeling “I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you say, feeling embarrassed at your body’s reaction. 

However Price doesn’t acknowledge your action nor your words. Instead he decides to raise attention to something else. 

“No underwear ?” He asks, taking notice of the wet patch forming on your gray sweats.  

“No sir I sleep commando”  Price curses under his breath and you feel the pressure increase in between your legs.

 “ Of course you fuckin do” he hisses and presses down even harsher, making you jolt at the movement and you just know that the embarrassingly big patch is growing larger by the minute with the way Price grins down at the spot between your legs. And when you look down at yourself you don’t only see the large wet spot on your sweats but you also see soil covered footprints all over it.  The mess in between your legs shouldn’t turn you on but the sheer sight of it makes you whimper and buck your hips.

“What’s the next step?”

You go to respond but end up choking on your words when you feel the fabric of your sweats slip between your folds and push directly up against your sensitive clit. He even goes to rock his foot side to side, boot continuously assaulting your sensitive numb. 

“What’s gotten your little cock so excited you can’t even speak?”

You whimper at his words, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You’re being mean sir”

“Mean?”  he asks, voice dripping in faux concern but never once letting up on his torturous movements. “I’m just trying to reward you here. You want your reward, don’t you?”

You nod frantically as you buck your hips up at him. All of a sudden he ceases any and all movements and you snap your eyes open up to look at him.

He raises a brow at you with a wolfish grin on his lips. You blink up at him for a moment, before it clicks; he wants you to work for it. 

You almost huff at the realization. Nonetheless you adjust in your seat, hands propping behind your back as you bend at your knees before you gently start to rock your hips: his boot once again hitting your sensitive clit. 

“We - we cut it. Not too much though, just the tip” you manage to get out the words before you break off into moans.  You don’t realize how loud you’re being until he shushes you. It’s only then you realize that someone else can see or even worse hear you two. 

“What if- what if someone sees us sir?” You ask but never once letting up on your movements. 

It takes a while for Price to respond, too entranced with the sight in front of him, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and cigar between his lips. You can barely see his face from the smoke surrounding him but the way his chest is rising and falling at a rapid beat and the way the cigar is shaking in his grip you know he is enjoying your performance. 

Truth be told you don’t even know if he heard you in the first place but when you go speak again he says “No one will see anything I promise” he says in reassurance.”Everyone’s fast asleep and if someone even tries to look or listen I’ll teach them to mind their own fuckin business. “ 

With that you turn your attention back to chasing your high, this time uncaring about who can see or hear as you lose yourself in the pleasure. 

However your attention is brought back to him once again when he says “But maybe you’d like them to?” He says, voice sounding thick and gruff. You snap your head towards him only to see him glowering down at you with desire swirling in his blue irises and a playful smile at his lips.

You know he’s just entering the thought of it, he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with. And you can see his gaze switching from your face to your body to gauge your reaction.  And he must see the positive reaction your body gives because he continues “you’d like for them to see how pretty you look all worked up for me? Maybe even jerk themselves off to you? Can't blame them if they did. You look too good like this” you can only moan in response as he continues to talk “maybe you’d even want them to join us. One cock isn’t enough for you. A slut like you needs to get all your holes stuffed to be happy isn’t that right?” 

Your pace increases at his words as you lose yourself to the pleasure. But you’re quickly brought back to the present when he says  “What’s the next step sergeant?“ 

You blink back the haze, as you try to scramble your brain for what to say next.

“Next you light it - you need two”  at this point you’re just spurting out nonesene, too busy chasing your pleasure. 

Although his boot does hit your clit, many times - due to your fast paced beat- it’ll miss, aim too clumsy and messy to reach it. It doesn’t take long for you to make the decision to latch one hand onto his leg, the other making sure to support your weight as you adjust his foot so that the tip of his boot hits your clit every time you rock against it. 

You know you’re putting on a show for anyone who might hear or see; legs spread wide apart, arousal and mud covering your sweats as you desperately cling onto Price’s leg and moaning desperately. However you can’t find it in yourself to care,  can’t  focus on anything other than the pleasure coiling between your legs.

You look up at Price through half lidded eyes and mouth agape only to see a similar expression on his face. 

“Jesus, look at you grinding on me like a bitch in heat, you enjoying this hm?”

“Yes yes sir, enjoy it so much” At this point you're slurring your words, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut as you focus on nothing else but the heat growing in your core.

 Your heels dig further into the floor, knees cramping from the awkward position and arms aching from supporting your weight for so long. But you refuse to let up on your pace. You’re so close to the finish line you can almost taste it.

“Almost there” you warn him before your mind’s too far gone to say something.

“Then you better explain the last step or there will be none of it, sergeant “ he says as he squeezes your thigh in warning. 

“Yes sir” you groan out before you will yourself to speak again “you puff it - you do the most work in the beginning until-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before you’re cut off by your own moan.

 “until what sergeant?” Is the last thing you hear before you lose focus of your surroundings, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as you chase your high on Price’s boot.

“Until - until - it starts working by-. “ is all you manage to get out before you’re cumming- stumbling over the finish line with your back arched and with a cry of victory.

You don’t even get to warn him before you’re falling back in your seat, arms giving out and legs losing their footing.  As you do so the boot accidentally rubs against your clit and for the first time since you ended up in this situation you jerk back from the friction, dick too sensitive. 

You end up leaning against your elbow, window frame uncomfortably pressed against your spine and Price’s hands on your thighs keeping you from falling straight to the ground.

“You alright?” Price asks after a moment of silence  and you feel his hand on your thigh again, rubbing soothing circles on them.

You hum in response, still lost in bliss and he chuckles as he gives you a moment to come down from it.  

Once you do, you flutter your eyes open and smile lazily at him. 

 “Good job my boy, you did so well”

“Thank you, sir” your face burns as you respond. him and the phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head once again. 

Suddenly you see Price’s brows furrow, tongue poking past his lips as he looks down at his feet. 

“Looks like you left a stain there” he says as nonchalantly as possible and points to his soiled boot “could you clean it up for me please?”

Your eyes flash in surprise and for a moment the words hang in the air.  

But as quickly as they came, the words  dissipate leaving a haze behind that seems to take over your brain.

“Of - of course, sir “ you say as you scurry out of your seat but before you can get any further he stops you with his foot, firmly pressing it against your chest “with your tongue sergeant “

You suck in a breath and you can feel your dick twitch in your soiled sweats. 

“Yes sir” 

You lean in so that you’re face to face with the boot he’s wearing. It’s a simple black boot, worn out  from everything it’s been through but there’s one spot on top of it that shines like it’s been newly polished.  It’s the very same spot you zoom in on, tongue poking past your lips as you trace a path from the very bottom up to the top of it.

You feel the soft leather scrape against your tongue as the familiar taste dances across your tastebuds. And every time you go to lick the boot your nose brushes against the leather and you smell yourself on it.  Despite the work you put into cleaning it you know you’ve ruined the spot with your arousal and instead of feeling bad about it you can’t help but moan at the fact that he can’t hide the evidence of the event that had transpired. You give it one last lick before you kiss the boot and smile at him.

He curses under his breath, a mix of swear words accompanied with your name leaving his lips and your grin widens as you sit up again. 

“Enjoy  the rest of your night, kid” he says all of sudden, patting your thigh lightly before jumping to his feet. “When you’re ready to put out the cigar, just let it rest on the ashtray, it’ll put itself out that way” he says as he shows how to do it with his very own cigar before making his way over to the door.

Within seconds you’re up on your feet, moving on wobbly legs you almost fall back on the window sill. 

“Hey, where are you going?” 

“Lesson’s over” he says  simply before looking down at the watch on his wrist “and I’m old and need my rest. “ He looks away from his watch to the mess between your legs. 

“Besides, you need to get cleaned up. See you tomorrow, kid” he says with a wink as he leaves. 

“See you tomorrow” you say into the now empty room, chuckling in disbelief as you plop yourself back down on the window sill. You’re a sticky mess and should probably go shower but instead you take a drag of your cigar before you say “This man’s truly something else”

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image is bowl of collard greens with tomato and sliced jalepeño; second image shows several Ethiopian vegetable dishes on a piece of injera. End ID]

ጎመን / Gomen (Ethiopian collard greens)

This wot, or stew, consists of leafy greens that are cooked until tender with onion, garlic, ginger, tomato, and spices including korerima (Ethiopian false cardamom) and tikur azmud (nigella seeds). The result is a robust, flavorful side dish with an intensely aromatic finish.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Ingredients:

12oz (340g) collard greens, kale, or other bitter greens, washed

1/4 cup avocado or sunflower oil, or other neutral oil

1 red onion, chopped or grated

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1 1/2 tsp minced ginger

1 tomato, minced

1 tsp cumin seeds, toasted and ground

1 tsp coriander seeds, toasted and ground

1/2 tsp Ethiopian false cardamom (korerima / ኮረሪማ; Aframomum melegueta), toasted and ground

1 tsp nigella seeds (tikur azmud / ጥቁር አዝሙድ; Nigella sativa), toasted and ground

1 jalapeño, sliced

Salt to taste (about 3/4 tsp table salt)

Mitmita (ሚጥሚጣ), to taste (see notes at end)

For more information on Ethiopian herbs and spices, including suggested substitutions, see the notes at the end of my berbere recipe.

Some recipes include niter kibbeh (ንጥር ቅቤ) in Ethiopian vegetable dishes such as gomen; this isn't typical, but you may add a teaspoon or so at the end of the cooking time if you have some lying around!

Instructions:

1. If using collard greens, discard any yellow leaves. Bend the end of each stem backwards and peel away the string that emerges. If the stems are stiff, remove them; if they are tender, they may be minced and included in the dish. Dice greens (finer than I did in the picture!).

2. Heat onion, tomato, about a third of the garlic, and a pinch of salt in a dry pot on medium heat. Continue to cook, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pot often, until tomato is softened and onion is translucent.

Beginning the cooking process without oil is traditional in Ethiopia, but if you’re worried that they may stick, you may heat a little oil in the pot before adding the onion, tomato, and garlic.

3. Add oil and sauté, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, until mixture is very soft and homogenous. Lower heat it ncessary.

4. Add ginger and another third of the garlic and sauté for about 30 seconds, until no longer raw-smelling.

5. Add ground spices and a couple tablespoons of water. Heat until simmering and add chopped greens.

6. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender (about 20-30 minutes).

7. Add salt to taste, jalepeño, and the remainder of the garlic and cook for another couple minutes.

Serve warm as a side with injera, misir wat, doro wat, etc.

For the mitmita:

Mitmita is a spicy seasoning mix that may be included in Ethiopian dishes, or served at the table as a condiment. Preparations differ, but recipes usually include chili, korerima, and cloves, and may also include cumin, green cardamom, allspice, black pepper, cinnamon, or garlic powder.

Ingredients:

20 dried bird's-eye chili peppers (piri piri)

2 Tbsp cumin seeds (optional)

1 Tbsp korerima seeds

1 Tbsp green cardamom pods (optional)

2 tsp whole cloves

1-inch piece Ceylon cinnamon (optional)

Bags of bird's-eye chili peppers can be purchased at a halal grocery store, where they will likely be a product of India or Thailand; they may not be labelled "bird's-eye," but look for the small size and curved shape.

Instructions:

Toast spices one at a time in a small dry skillet on medium heat until fragrant. Allow to cool completely and then grind in a spice mill or using a mortar and pestle. Store in an airtight jar in a cool, dry place.

[greenisms]

Recipe: | Vegetarian Paprika Hendl |

Ingredients:

8 oz rotini 1/2 large white onion sliced and chopped (medium sized pieces) 12 oz white mushrooms (sliced) 10 garlic cloves sliced (not too thin) 8 oz tomato paste smoked paprika salt butter sour cream veggie broth

Optional: ground black pepper, red pepper flakes, thyme, spinach

Note: I use 3 pots/pans because I cook the mushrooms and the veggies separately, but you could just cook them together if you like. Therefore you'd just need one for the veggies and good stuff, and one for the rotini.

Also: It's easy to make a vegan version by checking the rotini is vegan and substituting the butter and sour cream for vegan varieties.

Instructions:

Make sure your mushrooms, onion, and garlic are sliced.

In medium high heat - Cook the white mushrooms in butter and salt to taste until the mushrooms brown [I don't measure the amount of butter, but I would say I use around about 4 tbsp].

In another pan, cook and stir the chopped opinions in medium heat in butter until they are golden/beginning to brown.

Add the garlic to the onions. Cook and stir a little more until garlic becomes golden [add butter if needed/pan is 'dry'].

Add the mushrooms to the pan with the veggies and cook and stir on medium heat for about 2 more minutes.

Add the tomato paste and mix.

Cook a bit more and then add about 1 & 1/2 cups of veggie broth. Stir over low to medium heat.

Sprinkle your paprika to taste and stir.

Remove from heat and cover. [You can add the optional thyme or cooked/slightly wilted spinach if you like.]

In another pan, cook the rotini in boiling salted water according to package instructions. Should be about 8 - 12 mins. Drain.

Once the rotini is cooked, add it into the other ingredients and stir. [You can add the optional ground black pepper and red pepper flakes here if you're vying for some extra queer dreams.]

Finally, add in sour cream - about 4 to 5 spoonfuls - and stir some more. You can add a little more veggie broth for consistency.

That's it! I also add a little extra sour cream per plate as I serve based on personal preference.

[kris-mage-fics]

Hey y'all, here's my recipe for Apple Blackberry Crisp! It's great warm or cold, by itself, or with ice cream or yogurt. Somehow I managed to make it sweet enough to please my partner's massive sweet-tooth, but not make it too sweet for me. Link to recipe, and it's under the cut. (Both imperial and metric measurements are given.)

Apple Blackberry Crisp Significantly modified from the apple crisp recipe in The Oh She Glows Cookbook by Angela Liddon Filling: about 4 cups / 1 L peeled and chopped apples about 3 cups / 750 ml cut blackberries (In total you need 6–7 cups / 1500–1750 ml of fruit, but it doesn’t need to be exact. I used 2 granny smith, 1.5 gala apples, and 2.5 packages (½ pint / 170 gm) of blackberries to get the amounts above) 1 tablespoon / 15 ml cornstarch or arrowroot powder 1 teaspoon / 5 ml ground cinnamon ¼ cup / 60 ml brown or raw or coconut sugar (or ⅓ cup / 75 ml if you want it sweeter) 1 tablespoon / 15 ml lemon juice

Topping: 2 cups / 500 ml rolled oats ½ cup / 125 ml almond flour/meal (you can also use regular flour, I just like how almond flour tastes in the topping) 1 teaspoon / 5 ml ground cinnamon ¼ teaspoon / 1.75 ml fine grain sea salt ¼ cup / 60 ml butter or margarine or coconut oil, melted (they all work well, so pick whatever you have on hand or prefer) 3 tablespoons / 45 ml maple syrup (or ¼ cup / 60 ml if you want it sweeter)

Instructions: 1) Wash and dry the fruit.

2) Preheat oven to 375 F / 190 C.

3) Grease an 11 x 9 inch / 2.5 L baking dish with butter, margarine, or coconut oil.

4) Measure out the dry ingredients for the filling and the topping in two separate bowls. Put whatever fat you’re using for the topping in a heat-proof bowl and set it by or above where the oven vents to melt it. (Or melt it in the microwave just before you mix the topping.)

5) Peel and chop the apples, cut up the blackberries, and place them in a large bowl. I cut the apple pieces fairly small and the blackberries in two to four parts, depending on how big they are. But go with whatever size you want as long as it’s fairly consistent.

6) Add part of the dry filling ingredients and part of the lemon juice to the fruit and mix, repeat a couple more times until it’s all thoroughly mixed together, then put into the prepared baking dish, spreading evenly.

7) If you haven’t set the fat for the topping to melt by where the oven vents, then melt it in the microwave. Thoroughly mix the maple syrup, and the fat into the dry topping ingredients. Spread overtop the fruit mixture in your baking dish.

8) Cover with aluminum foil with some holes poked in with a fork or knife. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the apples are just fork tender. Remove the foil and bake for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until the topping is a nice golden brown.

9) Once removed from the oven, let it stand for 10 to 20 minutes before serving so the juices firm up some and it’s not so runny.

10) Keeps well in the fridge for a few days, though it probably won’t last that long! It tastes good cold, but you can always rewarm it in the microwave, or cover it with foil and put it back in a 375 F / 190 C oven for 10 to 20 minutes, until warmed through. Note: Play around with other fruit combinations, or just go with classic apple. Though you probably want to use a little more cinnamon if it's just apple. Try cardamom or ginger instead of cinnamon. If you try apple cranberry, I suggest you use less cranberries than the amount of blackberries I called for, and use the larger amounts of sweeteners. The larger amounts of sugar and maple syrup are what the original recipe called for, but I have a low tolerance for sweet so I reduced it a bit. My partner, who has a huge sweet tooth, still loved it.

[comfort-writing]

Crayons and Cassettes

Chapter 2: Johnny Appleseed and Iron Maiden

You are a kindergarten teacher. Eddie’s daughter, Sage, is in your class. Eddie is trying hard not to get too close.

warnings: shot mention of a previous relationship involving abuse. this fic will be 18+ in later chapters- minors DNI!! no use of y/n. (please let me know if I missed anything)

a/n: sorry for the long break! I was traveling over the holidays but now updates should be more consistent! thank you for all the love on chapter 1! please let me know in the comments or my asks if you’d like to be added to the tag list! :)

word count: 2.5k

Chapter 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 (coming soon!)

Eddie has never really been a crier. He had to toughen up early on; having a drug addict dad and a nonexistent mom, along with becoming the town freak because of his music taste made him develop a thick shell. But, as he’s aged, and as his daughter hit huge milestones, he softened. He allowed himself to cry every once in a while. It was cathartic. He cried when Sage took her first steps. He cried when she colored him a picture of the two of them and Wayne sitting on a picnic blanket under a sun that was purple. He cried when Alice signed over complete custody to him. And now, he was sitting in his old beat up van, crying because she started kindergarten. While his little girl is still little, it’s hard to see them grow so quickly.

Eddie took a moment and wiped his eyes, chuckling at himself, feeling a bit ridiculous for crying at all. He flipped down the visor on his van, sliding open the mirror to check how he looked. His eyes were a little puffy, but it would probably go away in five minutes. He turned on the air conditioning in his car to dry his face, then turned on the radio to try to get his mind off of the subject. He’d see Sage in a few hours. No big deal. After a minute, he pulled his gear shift into drive and started off on his way to work.

Since he graduated high school, Eddie worked in the local Hawkins record store. The owner was someone who actually grew to like him after getting to know him, which was a relief for Eddie. Not many people in this town gave him a chance to even have a job with his reputation, so having a boss that had grown to treat him like family was wonderful. The old man, Mr. Atkinson, had softened a lot to Eddie after he’d had a kid, and even more after the whole custody arrangement with Alice. He’d often let Sage hang out in the back of the shop, giving her a coloring sheet while Eddie finished up his shift. Mr. Atkinson didn’t have a wife or any children, so he’d said that he planned on leaving Eddie the shop once he was gone. Hopefully that would be in a long time from now, but Atkinson was getting older, and he always told Eddie, “Gotta face the reality of it, kid.”

Eddie pulled into his parking spot behind the shop, then went in through the back door. He clocked in, said hello to Mr. Atkinson, and got to work doing inventory.

Around two thirty, Eddie was let out of his job to go pick up Sage. Normally, he’d be going in earlier to be able to leave at this time, but Mr. Atkinson knew today was her first day of school—he’d bought her a sparkly pink pencil to bring with her—so he let Eddie keep his hours short today.

Eddie finished the transaction he was working on, clocked out, waved goodbye to Joe, then walked back out to his van.

He was so excited to hear all about Sage’s day, he was practically vibrating. He wanted to know every detail he could get from her. He drove to the school, then waited in the car line until they released the kids. Because he was there pretty early, he was the 4th car in line. He sat in his van, listening to a mixtape he’d made a year or so ago, but deciding to keep the volume lower than he would have preferred in order to not cause Sage any trouble.

Once the bell rang, you walked your class out to the car line. The children who rode the bus followed another teacher out. You smiled, having the kids line up and following you. Once outside, you had them sit along the wall as you, along with a few other teachers, helped pile kids into their respect cars. You walked up to a van, smiling when you saw Mr. Munson.

Eddie cranked his window down, “Are you just here for Sage or do you have another child as well?” You asked him, unsure if Sage was his only child.

Eddie smiled, “Just Sage. How was her day?” He asked.

“Let me go grab her and I’ll update you in a second!” You called, walking to the kindergarten line and telling Sage her dad was there. She smiled and started to run to the van, but you caught up and slowed her down, taking a moment to explain why running in car line was dangerous. She nodded, then walked with you to Eddie’s van. You opened the door for her, “She did great today! Excellent behavior- she was helpful to others and engaged with the lesson.” You told Eddie with a big smile as you helped Sage buckle her seatbelt, seeing that she was struggling. “I’m sure she has a lot to tell you about though.” You said, closing her door and walking back to the front passenger window.

Eddie smiled, “That’s great. Thank you for being kind to her.” He said.

You raised an eyebrow at that, “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s a great kid.” You smiled. Sage made a silly face at you and you scrunched your nose with a small smile back.

“Well, you must be new in town. But.. yeah. Thanks.”

You were a bit confused as to what he was talking about, but you nodded anyways. “You’re welcome. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Sage! Tell me what book you read tonight!” You smile, waving the two of them off.

Eddie pulled out of the parking lot, chatting with Sage on his way home, feeling elated that she’d had a great day. She talked his ear off for the entire drive home, on their way into the house, and right up until dinner. That night, Sage got her breakfast for dinner and her favorite ice cream before being tucked into bed. Once she was asleep, Eddie eased out of her bed and slowly walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible. He felt like the proudest dad in the entire world.

Throughout the next few weeks, Eddie would see you at pick up. You’d always update him on Sage’s progress, and she was doing great. By about the 5th week of school, she was able to write her name without mistakes and knew a lot of her sight words. Throughout your interactions with Eddie, albeit short, he seems to have gotten more comfortable around you. He opened up a little more, making jokes when you’d help Sage into his van. You couldn’t tell for sure, but you thought a few times he flirted with you. You’d always been bad at figuring that stuff out, but you could’ve sworn he had. You’d wanted to talk it through with someone, but you still hadn’t made many friends that weren’t five year olds or other teachers in their sixties.

One Saturday afternoon, you were digging through your box of cassette tapes for your students. You had a few songs that you would sing with them in class- ones that would help them learn their numbers, days of the week, etc. You were looking for your Johnny Appleseed tape. It was an audiobook that included sound effects and songs. You remember your kids loving it at your old school. You had a unit coming up relating to it, but you couldn’t find the tape anywhere.

“God, where is it?” You groaned, frustrated. You swore you packed it in your move. Maybe you’d left it in your old classroom. You sighed, deciding to go to the local record store you’d seen on your way to get groceries the other day to see if they had it, or at least something similar to it. You grabbed your purse, scribbled down the tape name on a notepad, and grabbed your Walkman off of the counter before tossing both items into your bag and heading out the door.

You drove across the small town you’d quickly become acquainted with, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. It was cool enough to wear jeans, but still warm enough not to need a jacket. You had your hair tied up, so you’d decided to roll the windows down and turn up the music on some local radio station that didn’t play anything by Hanson or Aqua. You pulled up to the store and quickly made your way inside, moving your sunglasses to rest on your head as you looked around the store, scanning quickly to find the cassette section.

You walked over and started looking through the tapes, searching intently for the correct one.

“You know, it’s weird seeing you not completely surrounded by kindergartners.” You heard a voice say behind you. You turned and saw Mr. Munson standing there, holding a small stack of records.

“Ah- hi Mr. Munson.” You smiled up at him, giving a small chuckle, “Yeah, believe it or not, I don’t sleep at the school. I do have a life.” You joked.

That made him laugh, warm and real. “Why did we all think teachers lived at the school when we were little?” He asked, turning around to start organizing the records into the bins on the opposite side of the aisle.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure. I think it’s a rumor the first graders pass down every year.” You responded, going back to your search.

“Whatcha looking for?”

“A Johnny Appleseed tape. I lost the one I had in my move.” You half mumbled, staring intently at the available cassettes.

“I can look it up for you in the Rolodex if you have the name of it.” He offered, which made you turn again.

“Yes, please, that would be very helpful.” You smiled, following him to the front counter. You pulled out the notepad you had, “I’m pretty sure this was the name of it, but anything close to it would be good.”

Eddie nodded and started flipping through the cards, “So.. why did you move to Hawkins? Most people move away from here if they’re as smart as you are.”

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “First of all, Mr. Munson, I’m not some genius- I teach the alphabet and two plus two. And secondly, I think Hawkins has a charm to it. I like small towns- everyone knows everyone and it’s very neighborly.” You smiled, “But, uh, long story short, I moved here to avoid an old relationship. It wasn’t safe back home anymore. Here, I can do what I love and not feel scared to get groceries, you know?”

You paused for a moment, then gave him a worried look, “Sorry if that was an overshare, Mr. Munson.”

“Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“You can just call me Eddie. Mr. Munson is too formal.” He said with a small smile, “And it wasn’t too much. I asked.”

You nodded and he found the right card, “Ah- I think I found it. It’s in the back, so I’ll see if I can find it. Feel free to look around, I might be a minute.”

Eddie disappeared into the back to go look for the tape and you looked around. You had a record player at home still, but you mainly used your Walkman nowadays. You looked through more tapes, seeing a few that looked good. You grabbed the new Iron Maiden album, an older Beatles one you didn’t have yet, and a couple others. You didn’t tend to stay within one music genre- you just listened to anything that made you happy. You started looking through the records as well, finding an old Elvis record.

Eddie walked out of the back with a tape in his hand and he looked over to you, watching you for a moment as you flipped a record around to look at the songs on the back. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty you were. He’d always thought that, but something about seeing you in casual clothes, outside of school, just going about your day made his chest feel tight.

After a second, he called, “I found it.”

You turned around and smiled at him, walking up to the counter, “You, sir, are a life saver.” You sighed with relief, setting down your findings on the counter as he handed you the tape to inspect, “Perfect- this is the exact one I had.” You said, placing it on top of your pile.

“You ready to check out?”

“Yep.” You smiled, “Sage is going to love this tape. I’m sorry if she comes home singing the Johnny Appleseed song.”

“She unfortunately did not inherit my musical ability.” He chuckled, ringing up your items. “Iron Maiden?” He asked, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I liked the guitar in Maiden England and I haven’t heard this album yet. Also, your musical ability? Do you play an instrument?”

Eddie looked shocked, “You know Iron Maiden.”

“I don’t just listen to Johnny Appleseed all day.” You quipped. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“But you- miss rainbows and sunshine- know about Iron Maiden. This is news.” He said, in awe.

“Eddie, I don’t live at the school, remember?” You laughed, “And I just listen to whatever music makes me feel something—happy, sad, angry— music is a good way to process your feelings. But once again, you have yet to answer my question.”

“Yeah yeah, I was in a band back in the day. Guitar and singing and all that. Had to stop once Sage came around so I could focus on being a good dad, blah blah blah.” He said, waving his hand as he rang up your last tape, “But wow. I mean, I’m shocked. Do I really want my baby girl being taught by a teacher who secretly lives a double life as a rockstar?” He teased.

You groaned, “What’s my total?”

He laughed, “You know I’m just kidding.” He said, breaking the theatrics, “It’ll be 20.57” he said, putting your items in a paper bag. “But we do have a lot to talk about. I don’t know if you can tell by the, ya know, everything about me, but this kind of music is my life. I’d be happy to give you some recommendations.”

You nodded, “That would be nice.” You smiled. He handed you the bag carefully, making sure not to damage any items. “I’ll see you at pickup?” You asked. He nodded and you walked out of the store, offering him a kind wave as you left.

Jesus, she likes Iron Maiden.

Tag list: @mcueveryday @bebe0701 @emma77645 @edsforehead

[otrtbs]

The Ultimate Orange Muffins

Hello everyone! So, previously, there has been some discussion on this blog about trying out several different orange muffin recipes on the quest to find the best Art Heist, Baby! James (and Regulus Black approved) Orange Muffin™️ ever made. I am now ready to begin this journey and will document my research and discoveries along the way! Please feel free to follow along on this orange muffin journey!

Starting Information:

I will be working my way through orange muffin recipes at least once a month (maybe twice if I can manage and have people to pawn muffins off on! We will see!)

The goal is to try at least 10 different iterations of orange muffins which i will rank (1-5) on skill (how easy is it to make, how many/what types of ingredients/ special tools you need, how long it takes), orange and overall flavor (arbitrary but it's my muffin bracket so idc!), and texture (consistency, moisture, idk, like, crumble factor)

After giving each recipe an overall score, the top scoring muffin will be crowned The Art Heist, Baby! Orange Muffin (James' version).

If you wish for your orange muffins to be included in the running, please feel free to send along your recipe and I will add it to the docket to bake! 😋

If you want to follow along with these bakes and form your own opinion, I will post all the recipes here for you to try!

All that being said...Here is the first recipe and rank for September's bake! ✨

Chai Orange Muffins!

Ingredients: 🍊 3/4 cup Oil 🍊 1 cup Sugar 🍊 2 Eggs 🍊 1 tsp. Vanilla 🍊 1/3 cup Chai tea latte concentrate (store bought or make your own!) 🍊 1 and 1/2 cups Flour 🍊 1 tsp. Salt 🍊 1 tsp. Baking soda 🍊 2 Tbsp. Orange zest, grated

Directions: Set oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line 12 muffin cups with paper liners. Combine oil, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and Chai Concentrate. In a separate bowl, stir together the flour, salt, baking soda and orange zest. Blend in the oil mixture and stir lightly. Pour into muffin cups. Bake for 15 to 25 minutes. Serves 12.

Extra: I also made a chai glaze to put on top of the muffins which is optional but here is the recipe for that as well!

🍊 1 cup of powdered sugar 🍊 2 tbsp of chai concentrate 🍊 1 tsp of vanilla 🍊 1 tsp of cinnamon

Directions: Stir until glaze consistency and add more chai concentrate as needed! Wait till muffins are cooled to add the glaze.

Ranking:

Skill: 4 (Super easy to make! Had all of the ingredients at home to make besides the chai concentrate! Just needed a bowl, a fork and a muffin tin really. Kinda hard to nail down a set bake time though. The recipe said 10-15 minutes mine needed like 25.) Flavor: 4.5 (The chai is so wonderful and it doesn't overpower the orange flavor. Muffins are good with or without the glaze. Can definitely taste the orange!) Texture: 4 (So yum. Not dry! bUT some cooked a little unevenly (that's on me ik but shush). Also they don't really have a good muffin top. They're more flat like a cupcake so I deducted some points for the aesthetic. Sorry!) FINAL RANKING: 4.2/5

Final Thoughts: The muffins are good! Almost more of a dessert muffin because they are very sweet! But they're a strong contender for my favorite already because I love chai, and the muffins made my entire house smell so lovely. A slay! (Would Regulus be able to stack several of these on his plate and save them for later though??? Kinda doubt it. So we continue on!) ✨ Tune in next time for my "Bakery Style Orange Muffin" Bake! Recipe posted here for reference! 😋 ✨

[tinybonesworld]

121 calorie cinnamon raisin bagel

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons of flour-85.5

3 table spoons of oat fiber (I use the Anthony’s brand. Find on Amazon)-0

1/2tsp of baking powder-0

Cinnamon -0

Sweetener -0

1/2tsp active dry yeast-7.5

10g of dried currants. Aka mini raisins-29

Water-0

Directions:

Add yeast into a separate bowl with two tablespoons of warm water. Stir until yeast has dissolved.let it sit for 5mins. In a different bowl mix all dry ingredients. You can add as much sweetener and cinnamon as you’d like. I added teaspoon of sweetener and a dash of cinnamon to mine. Once 5 minutes has passed add the yeast water to the dry ingredients and mix. Slowly add water until you get a dough consistency. Don’t at too much water or else it won’t be easy to shape into a bagel. You should be looking for a uniform dough that doesn’t stick to the sides of your bowl or spoon. Once you reached the right consistency let it rest for 10 minutes. After 10 minutes it should have risen just a little bit. It won’t really make a difference since you don’t have any actual sugar to feed the yeast besides the currants. Kneed dough with spoon for 5 minutes. With parchment paper and some water wet your hands slightly so the dough won’t stick you you. Shape the dough into a bagel shape and leave it resting on the parchment paper for 10minutes. During these last 10 minute you can preheat your over to 425f. Once the 10minutes are over you can put the bagel in the over for 10-15minutes. The bagel won’t actually brown as much like a typical bagel would since we bulked it up with oat fiber. Rest it for 5-10minutes once it’s done baking, cut and enjoy. I used a little bit of Walden farms calorie free pancake syrup. This bafle won’t taste the same as regular bagels but it does satisfy the craving and fills you up for hours from all the fiber.

[chimchiri]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers ^.^

That's... so cute...

My relationship to my family (grandma, dad, aunt + family), my partner, and friends. I'm really glad to have such good contact with them and it's usuallly the first thing I'm trying to remember when I'm having a bad day. I also had a loving relationship with my mom and always miss her. She was the first close person that died in my life and it changed me a lot (for the better). As in, I take much more time to spend with my remaining family.

Drawing - it's a need, it's calming, it's motivating... I couldn't imagine not drawing. It gives me such joy to observe, doodle, linework. Of course I also enjoy the fandom aspect of it all. Reactions to my art are always amazing, but I just adore the process of drawing itself (also recently I've been super motivated as well). It's just... satisfying.

Dogs - and hopefully soon my own! I'm in the process of getting a little pup and will 100% update once it's here <3 I also grew up with a small Terrier/Jack Russel mix and can't imagine my life without one. Whenever there's a dog, I MELT. I love them so, so much.... <3

Good food. I enjoy cooking as well, when I'm not stressed. But good food is something I LOVE. I will eat pretty much anything, but I very much appreciate when it's well seasoned and has good consistency (meat not dry, veggies not just mush). I also think almost all sweet desserts you get out (in restaurants etc) are overrated and unbalanced. Just fat and sugar without good, actual taste. Also I love cheese goddamn. I'll have a cheese plate (GOOD cheese) any day over chocolate or any sweets.

My ear piercings. A year ago, I had the sudden realization that I'm an actual adult and can do what I want???? I never paid much attention to piercings before but once I took note, I realized just how absolutely stunning I find different ear piercings. I've since got my second and third lobes and in February got additional double helix piercings, which are still healing. I've got two more ear piercings planned (one mid-helix with some stud, one mid-helix ring). I'm not big on jewelry otherwise, but god do I love ear piercings. I just think they look stunning and I love them on myself <3

[spooniechef]

Gluten-Free Bread (1 spoon)

Things are a little depressing on the wet little island I currently call home. Okay, by "a little", I mean "this country's government is publicly struggling to find loopholes in human rights law". So as you can probably guess, the whole situation is significantly testing all the coping mechanisms for clinical depression that I learned in therapy.

Therefore, sublimation time - sublimation being where you take all that grief, rage, depression, whatever, and you stuff all that energy into doing something positive and constructive. Now, when I got my fibromyalgia diagnosis, gardening was my primary sublimation activity, but we're into mid-November now and the garden's kind of sleepy right now. That means baking is my primary option. I mean, I need gluten-free bread anyway because I need bread crumbs for various recipes I want to try, and gluten-free bread is expensive, so why not just make my own? Particularly when I might get bread that isn't about 35% air bubble if I make it myself?

I'll say this for those of you who can eat gluten - the consistency of the loaf I baked last night (recipe courtesy the Dish By Dish website) is not the same as your bog-standard supermarket loaf. The results of this recipe are softer, spongier, and somewhere on the texture scale between cornbread and cake. That's not to say it's bad, but if you've got issues with the texture of foods, it's a fair warning. Now, here's the thing that gluten-free bread has over regular bread for those of us with more physical disabilities - no kneading required. Hell, it wasn't even all that hard to mix by hand (though I probably still should have used the hand mixer; still, I was sublimating).

So! Here's what you'll need:

2 1/2 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon xanthan gum (unless your flour blend already contains it)

1 teaspoon gluten-free baking powder

2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup neutral-tasting oil (vegetable, sunflower, etc) or melted butter

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

1 1/2 cups warm milk or milk substitute (110 F / 40 C)

2 large eggs, room temperature, beaten

Having made regular bread with actual gluten in it, this is an unusual combination of ingredients, and is probably why the consistency is closer to cake / cornbread than actual bread. Still, I figure things like the egg and milk are helping to bind the bread dough in same way the gluten molecules ordinarily would.

Anyway, here's what you do:

Combine all dry ingredients, whisk until well-blended

Add oil, vinegar, and milk, mix for 1 minute or until fully combined

Add beaten eggs, mix for 1 minute or until fully combined (consistency should be close to cake batter)

Add dough to greased 8" by 4" loaf pan, cover with a cloth, let rise in a warm place for about 30 minutes, or until it's about doubled in size

Once dough has risen, preheat oven to 350 F (175 C), then bake loaf for 50 minutes, until top is golden brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped.

Let cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before transferring to a cooling rack and cooling the rest of the way.

No kneading, remarkably little aggravation, and the only real issue is the number of things to wash up. The result is the sort of bread that probably works best toasted, or as the base for French toast, or turned into bread crumbs for breading things. Then again, almost all gluten-free bread needs toasting or similar to be palatable, and this was nice with butter and jam (in a cakey sort of way) when it was just out of the oven. So all that to say that it was a reasonable sublimation activity that left me feeling a little more accomplished and less helpless in general.

Now I have to go out for the ingredients for cornbread.

[odiafoods]

Poi Saga Besara

Poi Saga Besara" is a traditional Odia dish featuring Malabar spinach (poi saga) cooked in a mustard-based sauce. To prepare, mustard seeds are ground with green chilies, garlic, and ginger to form a paste. The paste is then sautéed with Pancha Phutana (five-spice blend) for aroma before adding turmeric and chopped spinach. The dish is simmered until the spinach is tender, resulting in a flavorful and nutritious accompaniment to rice or roti, characteristic of Odia cuisine.

Ingredients:

250 grams Malabar spinach (poi saga), washed and chopped

2 tablespoons mustard seeds

2-3 green chilies, chopped

2-3 garlic cloves, chopped

1 tablespoon grated ginger

1 teaspoon turmeric powder

1 tablespoon mustard oil or any cooking oil of your choice

Salt to taste

Water as needed

1 teaspoon Pancha Phutana (five-spice blend) - typically includes equal parts of fenugreek seeds, nigella seeds, cumin seeds, black mustard seeds, and fennel seeds

Instructions:

Soak mustard seeds in water for about 30 minutes to soften them.

Drain the mustard seeds and grind them along with green chilies, garlic cloves, and grated ginger to make a smooth paste. You can add a little water if needed to facilitate grinding.

Heat mustard oil in a pan over medium heat. Once the oil is hot, add the Pancha Phutana (five-spice blend) and let it crackle for a few seconds.

Add Green Chilis if want extra spices in saag.

Add the ground mustard paste and sauté for 2-3 minutes until the raw smell of mustard disappears.

Add turmeric powder and stir well to combine with the mustard paste.

Add the chopped Malabar spinach (poi saga) to the pan and mix well with the mustard paste.

Season with salt according to your taste preferences.

Cover the pan and let the spinach cook for about 8-10 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the mixture becomes too dry, you can add a little water to adjust the consistency.

Once the Malabar spinach is cooked and tender, remove the pan from heat.

Serve Poi Saga Besara hot with steamed rice or roti.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A plate full of vegetarian chicken breasts covered in a thick, dark sauce. End ID]

Vegan doro wat / ዶሮ ወጥ (Ethiopian braised chicken)

This simmered chicken wat, or stew, is both spicy and richly spiced. Minced onion, tomato paste, and spices and herbs including berbere and niter kibbeh are added at different times during cooking to create a layered, fragrant, full-bodied dish.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Ingredients:

About 300g vegetarian chicken substitute

1/4 cup neutral oil

3 shallots or 1 large red onion, minced

2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced

1-inch chunk (10g) ginger, peeled and minced

1 Tbsp berbere

1 Tbsp tomato paste (optional)

1 tsp nigella seeds (tikur azmut / ጥቁር አዝሙድ), toasted and ground

1/4 tsp korerima (Ethiopian false cardamom), ground (or substitute green cardamom)

1/2 tsp mekelesha (finishing spice blend—see notes at the end)

salt to taste

2 tsp niter kibbeh

Your chicken substitute should be unbreaded and as close to unspiced as you can get; I used Gardein chick'n breasts.

Many Ethiopian home cooks recommend against the inclusion of tomato paste, believing that it dampens the flavor of the dish; others like it for the texture it gives to the sauce, and feel that the inclusion does not ruin the flavor of the dish if the paste is fried thoroughly.

Berbere and mekelesha may be purchased from specialty spice stores or online, but I recommend making them at home. If using storebought, look for berbere with Ethiopian brown pepper or cayenne pepper as its first ingredient (not paprika!), and with korerima (Ethiopian false cardamom) and besobela (Ethiopian holy basil) on the ingredients list.

Korerima is also known as "grains of paradise," "black cardamom," or "false cardamom." Some recipes mistakenly call for Nepal cardamom in place of korerima, because Nepal cardamom is also known as "black cardamom" in English. The aroma of korerima once ground, though, is much more akin to that of green cardamom than to the smoky, camphorous aroma of Nepal cardamom.

Because "tikur azmud" literally translates to "black cumin" in English, some recipes make the mistake of calling for kala jeera (Indian black cumin) in Ethiopian dishes that call for it—however, the seeds are from different plants entirely. "Tikur azmud" refers to the seeds of the Nigella sativa plant, which are known as nigella seeds in English cooking and kalonji in Indian cooking.

Instructions:

1. Cook minced onion or shallots along with about half of the ginger and garlic and a pinch of salt in a dry pan on medium high, stirring often, until they have released their water and are dry. They will become more prone to sticking and need to be stirred more often as they approach being done.

Beginning the cooking process with aromatics sans oil is traditional in Ethiopia, but if you’re worried that they may stick (or don’t have much time), you may add a little oil and cook the onions until they soften.

2. Lower heat to medium. Add oil and stir to combine. Add remaining garlic and ginger and fry for 30 seconds, until fragrant.

3. Add berbere and fry for 30 seconds.

4. Add a little water to prevent burning and cook aromatics and spices until they have softened and the texture of the minced onion is no longer clearly discernable, 10-20 minutes. Being patient at this step is key, since this is where the flavor of the berbere will develop! Taste and add more berbere if required.

5. Optionally, add tomato paste and fry well, until it no longer smells raw and colored oil begins to separate and simmer at the edges of the paste.

6. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add chicken and cook, stirring occasionally, until water evaporates to allow chicken to fry and brown. Brown chicken in oil for about 5 minutes each side, or according to package directions. Add more oil if necessary.

7. Add finishing spices (nigella, korerima, and mekelesha) and a little water to prevent burning, or as necessary to create desired consistency. Add salt to taste and cook for a few minutes to develop spices.

8. Add niter kibbeh and allow to melt. Serve warm.

[grandmaster-anne]

PRINCESS ANNE’S FAVOURITE RECIPE: The Ritz’s executive chef cooks devilled pheasant

Country Life | Published 29 July 2020

The Princess says: ‘Most people think you just roast pheasant, but there are lots of other things you can do  with game and it’s worth eating!’ 

THE pheasant may not be worth the expense of rearing from the sportsman’s point of view,’ thunders P. Morton Shand inA Book of Food. ‘But it is worth almost any sacrifice from that of an epicure.’ Shand published his trenchant tome (‘This is frankly a book of prejudices, for all food is a question of likes and dislikes’) nearly a century ago, but how times have changed.

Because, although the keen shot, standing deep in some Devon or Yorkshire valley, may marvel at birds soaring stratospherically overhead, they’re rather less thrilled by the eating. A dowdy dowager aunt, if you like, to the more glamorous grouse, teal or woodcock. Too lean, they say, too dry and—unless you favour the Victorian method of hanging the bird until the flesh decays and the maggots plop heavily to the floor—a touch too dull.

Sure, we’re happy to shoot them by the hundred. And take a brace at the end of the day. If we don’t eat the game we bring down, there’s simply no justification for the sport. Too often, however, the pheasant has been condemned to chest-freezer Siberia, lonely, lost and unloved. I’m guilty of this myself. A brace of partridge barely makes it to the fridge before being transformed into some fragrant Indian curry. A young grouse is always swiftly roasted. But the pheasant? In culinary terms, this is a bird more sinned against than sinning.

‘The correct cooking of pheasant is of paramount importance,’ declares John Williams, the quietly brilliant executive chef of The Ritz in London. ‘It’s a lean bird and you have to get it just right.’ Under normal circumstances, I’d be at his side, in those vast and gleaming kitchens that stretch out beneath Piccadilly. Today—for obvious reasons—we’re talking by telephone about The Princess Royal’s favourite recipe, devilled pheasant (see box, page 136).

‘It’s a very simple recipe,’ he continues in his soft Geordie burr. ‘Basically, a couple of whole pheasants are poached, then taken off the bone, shredded and kept warm in the poaching juices. You just add freshly whipped cream, left in the fridge for an hour to stiffen, mixed with a good amount of Green Label mango chutney. Ithas to be Sharwood’s Green Label, nothing else. I went out and found that specially.’ Mr Williams may be one of our country’s great chefs, yet it would be a brave man indeed who decided to ‘reinterpret’ a recipe from The Princess Royal. ‘Add in a little Worcestershire sauce, remove the pheasant from its juice, cover with the cream mixture and put it in the oven for 10 minutes to heat through. That’s it, very, very simple, but it tastes great.’

So this is not exactly ‘devilled’ in the traditional sense. I was expecting a sprinkle of English mustard powder, a flurry of cayenne. At the very least, a decent jig of Tabasco. However, having ventured deep into those wilder reaches of my freezer, retrieved a pheasant, defrosted it and cooked the recipe myself, I have to agree with my teacher. It’s a damned fine dish, splendidly succulent and robust in flavour. And one that has now been firmly etched onto my (admittedly short) list of pheasant classics.

Devilled pheasant

Method

Put the pheasants in a casserole with carrot, onion, garlic, parsley and herbs. Cover the birds with water and then cover the casserole. Bring to the boil and simmer gently until tender.

Remove the meat from the bones and pour back the juices in which the birds were cooked. Heat the meat very slowly in the juices, so it does not become dry. Meanwhile, whip the double cream into a stiff consistency. Leave it in the refrigerator for about an hour until it becomes quite hard, then beat the mango chutney and Worcestershire sauce into it. Keep it cool in the fridge until ready to be used. Place the flaked meat, thoroughly drained of cooking juices, into the dish in which it is to be served, cover it with the cream mixture and put it in the oven for 10 minutes to heat through.

Hint: the birds can be cooked in the morning and the rest of the preparation done about 1½ hours before dinner, but remember to keep the stock in which the birds were first cooked for reheating.

Ingredients

Mr Williams loves game ‘in every sense’. However, as we discuss the relative unpopularity of the pheasant, he does wonder why it doesn’t enjoy the adulation that other game birds enjoy. ‘Perhaps the modern, reared pheasant has lost a bit of its flavour,’ he muses. ‘I’d love to try a truly wild one. Still, I use them every now and again. If I roast one, I always bard the bird with bacon or lardo fat, cover it totally. I brown it first in the pan with lots of butter and cook it at 200˚C for 15 minutes, then rest it for another 15 minutes before carving.’

2 pheasants

1 large carrot

1 large onion

1 clove garlic

1 sprig parsley

1 sprig thyme

2 bay leaves

250ml (½ pint) double cream

1 large jar Green Label mango chutney

4tbspn Worcestershire sauce

He pauses, lost in gamey reverie. ‘Oh, and when you make the gravy, add a good lump ofbeurre noisette [‘hazelnut’ or browned butter] to the hot pan. It makes all the difference.’ He serves it with sauerkraut or cabbage studded with crisp bacon lardons.

Are there any other recipes he loves? ‘My favourite dish is when you stuff truffle andfoie gras under the pheasant’s skin.’ Now we’re talking. ‘Then flambé it with Cognac, Madeira and more truffle. Then add a truffle sauce, seal it in a dough cocotte and cook for 15 minutes, no more.’ It’s not exactly the most simple of kitchen supper dishes. Or the cheapest. But this is the sort of feast that would make most serious eaters (Shand included) weep tears of greedy glee.

My children will happily devour the breasts, battered thin and breaded like a schnitzel, although I do have to admit I pass it off as chicken. In this case, ignorance (and an empty plate) is bliss. Thighs and breast make a decent curry, too, and I’ve finely chopped the meat to use in a fiery Northern Thailarb , although it does need a handful of minced pork for extra fat. A classic Frenchsalmi is another reliable standby, albeit one that requires a little work.

My friend and fellow food writer Matthew Fort has adapted a classic Michel Guérard duck-ham recipe, using pheasant breasts instead. Simply bury in salt—spiced with coriander seeds, allspice, juniper berries, black pepper and star anise, crushed in the pestle and mortar—for 36 hours. Rinse off the salt and slice thinly. They’re a revelation. The rest of the carcass is used for stock.

If cooking seems too much of a chore, worry not. I was lately dazzled by a pheasant sausage roll from Wild & Game (www.wildandgame. co.uk), the pastry burnished, the filling rich and gently gamey. Their pheasant and venison sausages are pretty fine, too. It’s time to give these cheap, lean and sadly under-rated birds a second chance. Come shooting season, there’s an awful lot of pheasant about. The very least we can do is enjoy them.

[giomagnetism]

i'm being requested to photograph and commemorate my recent forays into baking by my mom so here are my opinions.

chocolate chip banana bread: 5/10

a little dry, could definitely have used some actual spices and i forgot to put the chocolate chips in the mix itself. i didn't measure the amount of bananas we had and it was definitely too few. otherwise quite nice in texture, fluffy and dense though a little too crumbly and crispy for my taste (chalking the latter up to our oven being strangely low heat lately and i haven't figured out how to compensate for it yet). not the best banana bread i've ever made, lots of ways i could make it better but it's not bad.

carrot cake: 8.5/10

the best carrot cake i've ever eaten tbh, though my experience is limited because it's always got chunks in it. restored faith in my ability to make cakes after the last attempt. carrot cakes are one of my mom's favorites so i made this one for her birthday and it was a hit.

pleasantly moist, light, the homemade cream cheese frosting was a touch too sweet for my liking but a wonderful consistency. mixed really well for a filling, but not too rich, experience. the cake itself was a little wonky because we didn't flatten the top layer, the internal layer of icing was extremely uneven, and i eventually gave up and handed the icing process off to my mom but altogether it was some sorely-needed practice. quite pleased with this one but i have higher ambitions.

[thechestnutworkshop]

soup and sandwich | seafood potato chowder & herb focaccia

I'm not much of a person for soup as a standalone meal, but it goes without saying that the interplay between soup and sandwich turns it to nothing short of divine—in both the contrasts in texture and taste. Well, a focaccia isn't a sandwich, but with its oily rich chewiness paired with the creamy, briny heartiness of the chowder, you won't find yourself missing it. I think I first had this sort of pairing back when souplantation was still in business, and it quickly became my go-to when I went there with my family as a kid. Now I generally prefer my chowders to be on the lighter side with just enough roux and cream to add a little body to the soup, choosing to highlighting the briny herbiness of the soup instead—though, I do use a looser hand on the herbs, cream, and bacon when it's wintertime to make the soup a bit more stick-to-the-ribs (it also gives the soup a rather cozy cottage-like look, don't you think?).

It's very delicious and hearty, and a perfect holiday lunch to warm yourself up, so please do give it a try.

seafood potato chowder for 3-4 servings 2 tbsp (30g) cultured butter (double for thicker) 1 1/2 (12g) tbsp flour (double for thicker) 5 sprigs of thyme, whole 1/2 of a celery stalk, minced finely 1 shallot, minced finely 5 garlic cloves, minced finely 1 fresh turkish bay leaf 1/2 (230g) pound of shrimp 3/4 lb (340g) of salmon, cubed into bite-size pieces 3/4 lb (340g) baby yellow potatoes, cubed into bite-size pieces 1/3 pt (160ml) heavy cream 16 fl oz (240 ml) clam stock 1/4 lb (100g) slab smoked bacon, cut into small cubes 1 medium-thick slice of brioche, cut into small cubes like the bacon and well-toasted in butter (though if serving with focaccia, you don't need it) chives, minced finely coarsely cracked black pepper and a squeeze of lemon saute aromatics with butter until tender. add flour and make a veloute with the clam stock. add thyme, bay, and potatoes, and simmer until the potatoes are just tender, around 10-15 minutes. add salmon and cream, and poach the fish very gently until just shy of cooked, 3-5 minutes. add shrimp and poach for a minute or 2 more until cooked. finish the soup with cooked cubed bacon, crunchy brioche croutons, a smattering of chives, a squeeze of lemon, and very coarsely crushed black pepper.

calories: ~1630 kcal (408 - 543 kcal per serving) - herb focaccia for 10 × 15 pan 500g flour 80% hydration (400ml water) 1.8% salinity (9g salt) .25 oz fresh yeast / 3g dry yeast 2 tbsp + generous amount of extra virgin olive oil generous handful of equal parts fresh rosemary and thyme, finely minced maldon salt garlic slivers (optional) proof yeast in 100-110F water first if needed. then, mix flour and salt into the yeast mixture and mix until a dough just begins to form. rest for 20 min. perform 3 sets of stretches + folds (each consisting of a three-fold in one direction as you would when laminating croissant dough, then another three-fold in the perpendicular direction), each spaced 20 minutes apart. after the last set, lather the dough with 2 tbsp of olive oil and let it rest for another 20 min. place dough onto a 10 × 15 sheet pan (or 9 × 13 for a thicker focaccia) generously lathered with olive oil and stretch it to fill. rest the dough overnight in the refrigerator, and proof for 2 hours before ready to bake. generously drizzle olive oil over the top and dimple the dough, forming oily pockets. scatter with herbs generously and maldon salt. add slivers of fresh garlic inside the crevices of the dimples if desired, and add a bit more oil for good measure. 500F, with another tray preheating inside. start checking at around 20 minutes for a deep golden brown with a few blisters.

It's also fantastic to make a panini with; I especially love it with pesto and thinly shaved porchetta rovagnati.

cozy holidays from los angeles! 🎄

[bread-and-batter]

Monkey Bread

Is it the most dignified of the breads? No, but sometimes it’s what you need to satisfy your dark passenger.

You will need;

for the bread;

3 cups all purpose flour

1 cup bread flour

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

2 1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast

2 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 2/3 cup warm water

for the monkey;

1/2 cup butter (melted)

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 cup cinnamon

what i did was;

1) measure the warm water into a large mixing bowl. stir in the sugar and sprinkle the yeast on top. don’t stir the yeast into the water, we’re trying to wake the yeast up by feeding it and letting it breath a little. let the yeast enjoy their breakfast and when you see a sort of foamy texture in the mixture you are ready for the next step.

2) add the flour right into the mixing bowl, on top of the yeast. sprinkle the salt over the flour. some people say you don’t want to add salt directly to your yeast. i say ¯\_(ツ)_/ chase your bliss. if you want to you can mix the salt into the flour before adding it to the yeast.

3) mix this all together and knead it. i have heard you’re supposed to knead bread dough for a long ass time, but i find that over working your dough creates terrible results. so knead your dough for a minute or two. make sure the texture of the bread is consistent throughout.

4) next you’ll want to let your dough rise. place it in a greased mixing bowl (i used the same bowl from earlier) with a wet tea towel over the top. check on it every 5-10 minutes until it’s doubled in size.

5) punch it down. you’re going to push your bread down to the bottom of the bowl. place the tea towel over it once more and wait for the dough to rise again.

6) this is when i would start preheating the oven to 350’F and grease a 9x9 baking dish.

7) melt the butter in a sauce pan. once it’s melted add the brown sugar and remove it from the heat.

8) mix the cinnamon and sugar in a small bowl and (once it has risen again) tear the dough into .5” pieces and coat each one with cinnamon sugar before placing it in the greased baking dish.

9) pour the butter mixture over the top of the baking dish full of dough and stick the whole thing in the oven for 23 minutes.

10) once the top of the dough hardens into a crust you can remove it from the oven and let it sit for a couple minutes to cool. don’t let it cool all the way down before turning it over onto a large plate for serving.

notes;

i made this vegan by using vegan butter. i used country crock plant butter, but i wouldn’t recommend it for this recipe. there was a distinct olive oil taste to it. otherwise this was a very successful recipe for me!