#when you have a wonderful cuppa chai

[konigenblobbity]

i had this idea stuck in my mind, all i can think about is the trio that Hobie, Pavitr and reader (platonic) would make.

And i listen to pop AND I WOULD TOTALLY ARGUE WITH HOBIE TO SEE WHICH ONE IS BETTER BETWEEN PUNK AND POP LOL

And like reader would tease Pavtir that their are more taller even if just an inch (than there is hobie who is more taller than both of them💀)

And yeah just a platonic trio with them :D

Headcannons or anything is good I JUST NEED THIS

Request: Triple Threat

Hobie x Spidey!F!Reader x Pavitr

A/n: Made it more headcannony but yes I love this idea! I can just imagine them as a totally chaotic but amazing trio. I managed to answer this request so quickly because I was just able to put my thoughts on here and not worry too much about structure or spelling

General Headcannon

A chaotic and just overall silly trio

Always up for a spontaneous bit of fun

Often the culprits for pranks played on Miguel

Affection shown through playful insults and jabs but also physical touch

The tightest hugs from Pavitr while ofc Hobie throws his arms over your shoulders when you’re walking

Somehow never get on each others nerves

Countless sleepovers! Just all in pajamas making s’mores and watching horror movies together!

Constantly cracking jokes behind Miguel’s back during meetings

“Man’s hands are glued to his hips” Hobie jokes

“Wonder if you can crush a watermelon from how tight his ass is” you say

“Shhh! Don’t make me laugh” Pavitr pleads, almost losing his composure

Miguel would turn around to the three of you fighting back laughter, turning red in the face to the point he can see it through the mask

You and Pavitr have gotten caught - multiple times - trying on Hobie’s clothes when at his place, doing your best impressions of him

“Oi Bruv! That’s messed, not at all my cuppa tea innit! I hate the PM and all that shite, inconsistency blah blah blah that’s me!”

You and Hobie saying ‘Chai Tea’ whenever someone asks about a drink, just knowing it’ll infuriate Pavitr for a good laugh

You three make fun of each other endlessly, but if anyone else dares to insult one of you, the other two get immediately protective and ready to fuck shit up

“What’d you just say?” You’d say

“You watch your mouth.” Hobie would warn

“I dare you to say it again” Pavitr immediately remarks

When it came down to it, no one could complain. You three made a great team and on missions worked like a goddamn masterpiece

Height related Headcannon

“You’re not!” Pavitr’s voice got higher, which only made you smirk and tease him more

“I totally am! You just won’t admit I’m right” you bring a hand up, placing it on the top of your head and then moving it forward to float above Pavitr’s “you’re totally shorter than me!”

“Only because you wear those insane platform boots!” Pavitr retorts back and points at the three inches of platform attached to the sole of your boot

You shrug and put your hands in your pockets “still taller than you” you go to walk off but Pavitr uses a web to pull you back, you look at him with feigned shock

“This conversation isn’t over” Pavitr said, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed at you. You then send a web to hit him directly in his face, making him let out a soft yelp “don’t. web me” you say with a smirk watching as he struggles to pull it over his mask

“Why you!” He mumbles and finally gets off the web, his eyes glaring at you. You narrow your eyes back at him and wait for him to attack again

It then that Hobie’s voice draws both your attentions “What are you pipsqueaks fighting about?” Once he reaches you he rests his arm on your head making you scowl

“She thinks she’s taller than me!” Pavitr says pointing a finger at you and you let out a soft scoff “snitch” Hobie just chuckles

“You’re both short. There. Argument settled” as he walks over to Pavitr patting his head with a hand and you can hear how Pavitr mumbles under his breath

As Hobie walks further into HQ, past both of you, you and Pavitr make eye contact. Giving each other a small nod. Both of you sending a web at Hobie’s feet causing him to trip and fall

You and Pavitr break out into hysterical laughter, grabbing your stomach as you watch Hobie try to unwrap the web around his ankles

“My god! Watch your step next time ‘pipsqueak’” your words only make Pavitr laugh harder, you smile as you watch how he takes off his mask to wipe away his tears from his laughter

As you laugh your eyes no longer focus on Hobie, the next thing you know Pavitr is pointing behind you, trying to say something but still laughing too hard to speak

You suddenly feel Hobie place his hand on your shoulder “Did you have a good laugh? My turn” and you feel yourself be pulled up into the air by your feet, hanging upside down from the ceiling by a web around your ankles

Before you can undo it Hobie uses another web to wrap you up as if in a cocoon, leaving your face showing but the rest of your body is wrapped up “Hey! Let me out! It wasn’t my idea!” You say

Hobie just laughs and shrugs “well, sucks for you I guess” and then steps back, putting his hands in his pockets. He takes his mask off and you see the wide smirk on his lips, he then peels yours off looking at your unamused expression as you hung from the ceiling

For the next few minutes Hobie and Pavitr just take photos of the whole thing, doing obnoxious poses as one of them takes a selfie

Everyone else at HQ just sighed, knowing this was an everyday thing.

Miles leans towards Peter “so they’re friends?” He asks and Peter nods “Sure are. The closest friends too.” Miles just nods his head once “huh. Alright”

Pop vs Punk Headcannon

Even though the three of you were friends, you had your differences.

Even though you could swing where ever the hell you wanted, the three of you loved car trips together, usually asking one of the adults to drive you places seeing as you’re all not able to drive

The car rides are fun, even if every time you and Hobie fight for who gets the aux

“Not fair Hobie! You got it last time!” You say as you watch him plug in his phone “Too bad! We’re not listening to any of your basic studio plant pop music!” And you just groan out

“Well I’m sick and tired of your punk, I need some more light in my life!” You complain but Hobie just turns on the music, sitting in the passengers seat rocking his head to the music

“PAVI! You agree with me don’t you?! Help me tell him to turn it off!” You try to speak over the music to Pavitr who was sitting next to you

“Sorry! I cant focus on that right now. You’re both mature enough to figure it out!” He looks down at his phone, too busy texting Gayatri

But he glances your way and shrugs as he spots your unimpressed grimace

You sit back in your seat crossing your arms “and he gets shotgun again?! So much for ‘I don’t believe in consistency’” You murmur to yourself

“I heard that!” Hobie says and looks over the chair at you, and you look at him with a snarky expression

“Good! I wanted you to!” You say and lean forward, glaring into Hobie’s eyes, his squinting as he does the same

There’s silence as you both engage in an unspoken eye staring contest

Pavitr let’s out a sigh, leaning forward and turning down the blaring music before sitting down again “finally. Some silence”

Neither you or Hobie say anything in fear of losing the contest. Neither of you aware of the stakes… but yet you knew you couldn’t lose

Finally he blinks and you cheer in victory, he just groans in annoyance “Cheater.” He says and you scoff, punching his shoulder jokingly

“Prick. Now hand me the aux” you demand and he begrudgingly abides, unplugging his phone and letting you plug yours in

As much as Hobie pretended to despised your pop, whenever you played your playlist in the car all three of you would be singing

Much to the dismay of the driver of the car… usually Miguel or Jess

If it was Peter he couldn’t help but sing along, and those were the best car rides

After the first time Miguel or Jess drove you, they always ask Peter to do it, haunted by the absolute chaos the three of you managed to make in just an hour

[okamirayne]

Hello, my angel of words! Here I am yet again (told you I'd be back hehe), this time with a shorter ASK.

Pretty sure Kakashi and Genma have decided to turn my brain into their permanent residence and BtB has given me a burst of writing-motivation.

My own original story is still just vibes and nothing else (with a few loose plot points that probably are the results of loose screws in my head... 😂) and I can't for the life of me figure out what the hell is happening in there yet.

There's a few scenes containing Genma and Kakashi that my brain came up with though and so I was wondering the following thing:

Are you okay with people writing their own little stories set in the BtB universe? Basically fanfiction of fanfiction, if you will 🤔

Me personally, I'd probably just use it to get some practice in (god do I need it 😂) and wouldn't publish it anywhere

I hope you're doing well 💙 Also, I gotta know, what's your favorite kind of tea? 👀

Aw! Hello, my lovely! 💜 Always a pleasure, @sunlightrays. 🥰🩵

Pretty sure Kakashi and Genma have decided to turn my brain into their permanent residence and BtB has given me a burst of writing-motivation.

😆 Glad to hear it! No freeloading for those two. House rules! Raidō did attempt to teach (beat into) Genma some semblance of tenancy decorum. 😉

My own original story is still just vibes and nothing else (with a few loose plot points that probably are the results of loose screws in my head... ) and I can't for the life of me figure out what the hell is happening in there yet.

Ah! All good and great things in their time, my fellow wordsmith! May it all percolate deliciously. I hope that it comes together in that magical way when Time and Flow do their alchemical dance. 😍

Wey! All those loose screws are good! I’m convinced. 😆 No creative chaos should be sane or contained! ✨

Are you okay with people writing their own little stories set in the BtB universe? Basically fanfiction of fanfiction, if you will. Me personally, I'd probably just use it to get some practice in (god do I need it) and wouldn't publish it anywhere

Meta-fanfic! I shall re-direct you to my answer for this question which resides in this post, sweetheart. 👍🏼

I hope you're doing well.

Why yes…just randomly screaming from my hellpit at my muses…you know…

Or staring into my own cleaved brainpan like..

Yep! I’m Happy to report that I’m still bug-fuck nuts and routinely courting madness, so the End Days are not yet upon us 😆.

Also, I gotta know, what's your favorite kind of tea?

*addict-twitching grin* Oh my…just the one all-time fav? I enjoy different brews for different levels of sorcery. Being a homegrown Brit with mixed heritage, I oscillate a bit. But my everyday go-to cuppa is a UK black tea brand called YORKSHIRE TEA.

Very popular here. It’s a good strong brew. My favourite overall (which I practically inhale 99% of the time) has to be masala chai (and here comes my Eastern roots) which can be made in various different ways according to spice-preference. For convenience, I blasphemously use a pre-ground spice combo that I shove into the Yorkshire Tea. That’s my everyday cuppa ☕️🥰☕️

I’m also a huge fan of ceremonial Matcha 🍵 🤩 And, on occasion, I enjoy a good Genmaicha. ☕️

Thanks for the ASK(s), my luv! I wish you inspiration a’plenty for your original works, with rampant and most randy plot bunnies 😆💜✨

[diningwalldecor123]

  A Love Letter Addressed To Tea

To tea, or not to tea – that dear friends, is a laughable question. The answer is always yes, more tea please. Because what’s not to love about this beautiful brew?

For starters, have you noticed how everybody seems to get oolong better and better over steaming cups of fragrant tea?

Second, all teas, they smell so good. It’s almost like they have pheromones. And everyone knows pheromones are irresistible.

Plus they’re warm, wonderful companions. They maintain a companiable silence when you’re cradling a book, they cheer you up in the mornings, and when you need to just unwind, they’re all about making sure you relax. Such selflessness, it breaks your heart, doesn’t it?

Bonus: they play super nice when you are entertaining friends or family too. More the merrier they always say, making sure that everyone is always smiling at the end of a chai session.

And this is true of every single variant that you can think of – virgin white, long leaf green, Assam, Darjeeling, Earl Grey, Rose Hip, Saffron Kahwa, Matcha, Chamomile, Jasmine, Peppermint… the list goes on an on, and they’re all delightful. And always around in their multitude to make sure you’re never bored.

Plus drinking tea is actually super healthy! Green Tea for instance is packed with antioxidants and boost metabolism, almost all teas keep you hydrated since they’re 90 percent water, a spiced chai with some holy basil thrown in is even more delicious when you’re battling a cold, and most teas relax you and help you sleep better at night. Sweet!

To this writer, tea-time is me-time. A time to relax, unwind and just take the time out to smell the flowers. Besides the fragrant aromas swirling upwards from her steaming cuppa of course.

Which only means that while you can’t buy happiness, you can buy tea, and that’s kind of the same thing.

In closing therefore, one last confession: “Dear Tea, to me, you’re like a hug in a cup.”

READ MORE....Home Decor Gifts Planter Vase Dining Wall Decor Tea Coffee Mugs

[charlottebell042]

sip on sunshine: easy orange tea recipe to brighten your day!

For Aussies who love a good cuppa, there's nothing like snuggling up with a warm brew on a chilly morning or sipping on a refreshing iced tea in the heat of summer. But you know what's even better? Adding some zing to your tea routine with a homemade orange tea.

Orange peel is an often-overlooked ingredient that can be used to make a delicious and refreshing cup of orange tea. This sweet and tangy concoction is the perfect way to wake up your taste buds and give your immune system a boost.

Plus, it's super easy to make at home with our orange tea recipe – so you don't need to be a master chef to whip up a batch. With just a few simple ingredients, you can have a cup of homemade orange tea that's bursting with flavours. So, let's grab our kettles and get brewing!

How To Make Orange Tea?

Making the orange peel tea is a breeze and there are numerous ways to do it. However, going by the most common orange tea recipe, you just steep fresh orange peels in boiling water for several minutes. By doing so, you'll unlock the natural oils and flavours of the peel while extracting the many health benefits that it offers.

As an avid fan of orange peel tea, I got to spill the tea about its amazing health benefits. Did you know that orange peel contains a special kind of soluble fibre called Pectin? It works wonders in regulating digestion and can help you shed some extra pounds by reducing your appetite and preventing overeating. Pectin also has a positive impact on your cholesterol levels, lowering LDL or "bad" cholesterol.

Let’s dive into the details of our orange tea recipe and explore how to make the tea easily:

Ingredients:

1 cup of water

1 tablespoon of orange peel

1 teaspoon of honey

2 cardamom pods (optional)

½ inch stick Cinnamon (optional)

A pinch of saffron (optional)

Orange peel: it's worth noting that orange peels have a unique and citrusy flavour that adds a pleasant taste to the tea. Interestingly, the orange peel is more nutrient-dense than the fruit itself.

Cardamom pods: The pod spice packs in a unique flavour and aroma. It has a warm, slightly sweet taste with a hint of menthol and is often used in traditional chai tea recipes and variants of the basic orange tea recipe. It also aids digestion and has anti-inflammatory properties.

Saffron: The most expensive spice in the world, saffron, adds a distinct and aromatic flavour to the orange peel tea. Fun fact – it takes 75,000 saffron flowers to produce just one pound of saffron. This rarity also makes it a target for fraud and adulteration So, be sure to buy it from a trustworthy source.

Honey: It’s a perfect natural sweetener for the tea. Interestingly, honey can never spoil when stored in airtight containers. Archaeologists have even discovered pots of honey in ancient Egyptian tombs that’re still edible after thousands of years. Pretty cool, right?

Cinnamon: The spice adds a distinct sweet and warm flavour to the tea. Apart from its use in recipes, cinnamon was so valuable during the Middle Ages that it was used as currency. 

Instructions:

Step One: Gather the orange peels. You can use fresh orange peels or save the peels from oranges you have already eaten. Make sure to wash the peels thoroughly before using them. Of course, you can also use orange tea bags if the orange peels are not handy.

Step Two: Cut the orange peels into small pieces. You can use a sharp knife or kitchen scissors. The smaller the pieces, the more flavour will be extracted.

Step Three: Boil the water in a pot on the stove. Once the water comes to a boil, turn the heat down to low.

Step Four: Add the orange peels to the pot of water. Stir the orange peels and let them simmer for about 10 minutes. To add more flavour, add cinnamon and cardamom to the pot with the orange peels.

Step Five: After 10 minutes, remove the pot from the stove and let it cool for a few minutes.

Step Six: Strain the liquid into a cup using a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth to remove the orange peels, cinnamon sticks and cardamom shell.

Step Seven: Add honey or sugar to taste. Stir well. Serve the tea hot or chilled over ice.

So next time you find yourself with some orange peels, don't let them go to waste! Instead, whip up a batch of delicious orange tea and enjoy the sweet and tangy flavours of this classic. Cheers!

Conclusion

Gotta say, orange peel tea is a ripper beverage that's not only tasty but also easy to make at home. With just a few ingredients, you can prepare a refreshing and nourishing drink that’s packed with all kinds of health perks.

Not only does orange tea taste great, but it can also help in shedding kilos, regulate blood sugar levels and give your skin a beauty boost. Its natural citrus flavour is delicate and delightful, making orange tea an excellent way to enjoy the goodness of oranges in a unique and delicious way.

Whether you enjoy it hot or cold, with honey or not, orange tea is a must-try for all tea lovers or health enthusiast.

[anyagarika]

"Everybody here is out of sight

They don't bark and they don't bite

They keep things loose they keep it tight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feeling warm and bright

It is such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight"

~ Toploader, Dancin' in the moonlight

[morimatea]

When you are feeling stressed or tensed, just have a cup of tea to relax and be at peace with yourself. . . . #cupoftea #cuppa #teasoup #amber #copper #teapots #kettle #dish #books #orange #jade #ceramics #porcelain #monday #teatable #wooden #wonderful #rougui #tea #teatime #teastyle #tealife #zen #chai #tee #thé #чай #herbata #tè #morimatea https://www.instagram.com/p/BsUNlLkFeo3/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=p64um8skmke0

[moonbeammuses-a]

@gentlegently cont. from an ask

                                              A bar. It’s a bar. A human bar, for perfectly ordinary humans in need of a bit of uneventful watering or, more likely,beering; a place that could not be any MORE mundane or any LESSadventurous, utterly unbeaten in its normality. Dirk could kiss it. Because here’s the thing: all day, from the first cacophonous bleep of his alarm clock to the last blister-footed step that brought him into this part of town, he’s been completely DYING dying for a drink.

        Annoyingly enough, being the universe’s favourite plaything does not always result in instant wish-fulfilment. Quite the opposite: over the years, the detective has often found that the simpler his urges, the more viciously complicated the world’s efforts to keep him on his toes. Honestly, he would be hard-pressed to imagine anything less spectacular than the much-needed discovery of a quiet place to have a bit of a sit-down and a container, any kind of container, from which to sip a drinkable liquid, any kind of drinkable liquid. When he startled awake this morning, a whole eighteen hours younger and more naive, he was still fool enough to hope for a park bench and a hot cup of cocoa. Around midday ( his hair a mess and his shirt stained with ghostly ectoplasm, the sight of which is destined to evoke exceedingly wrong connotations ), he would have gladly contented himself with any old folding chair and a bottle of stale apple juice. But by now? Good grief, he’sdesperate. Not that it’s much of a surprise, after a whole day of having been bulleted across town in the most feverish zigzagging pattern by whatever forces of nature still seem to be suffering from intense onslaughts of galactic boredom. Nothing else could explain their pesky tendency to deem him such an excellent bouncy ball. Before chance, fate, or simply his malnourished instincts made him happen across the bar, he was just about ready to curl up on a mould-covered spot of pavement behind a leaky rubbish skip and slurp mouthfuls of rainbow-oiled puddle water. And now this! He’s positive he has never seen a more inviting establishment in his entire life: the door is just a door, just a normal human-sized door without sanity-threatening riddles or insane mechanisms designed to catapult unsuspecting visitors into a far-away dimension populated by, oh, blood-thirsty paperclips, if he knows his luck. The walls are just walls, the windows are exactly that, warm and glowy with a hospitality that sends several full-body shivers of hope racing all the way from Dirk’s singed hair to his exhausted toes.

                                                                              When he finally stumbles into the room, it’s with an exhale of relief loud enough to shake the entire building. And — and perhaps it’s mainly the pure delight of being welcome, the unbridled joy of, just for once, NOT finding himself on the short and definitely far-too panicky end of a life-or-death chase — perhaps it’s just all of that, but when he spots the barkeeper behind the meticulously polished counter, it appears to him that he’s never seen a more handsome face, never entrusted himself into the care of two hands more expertly kiss-worthy than those.

               Unmistakably re-energised, the detective hurries toward the counter and seats himself, regrettably leaving little smudges of doubtful origin on whatever surface he touches, but glossing it all over with a radiant smile. His belief in the world and humanity at large has been rekindled, all is well again! “ Good evening, my good-looking, drinks-pouring barkeeper man, ” he enthuses vocally, thoroughly basking in the wonderful experience of acquainting his behind with something as outlandishly comfortable as a seat. “ If you’d be kind enough bless me with a cup of tea and perhaps a biscuit or two, I swear I will love and cherish you FOREVER! ” Remarkably, it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration. Nothing but floaty dandelion fluff remains in the tingly hollow that was, up until a second ago, Dirk’s brain. The enamoured grin is quick to drip from his lips, however, when he shoves his hands into all and any pockets he encounters in his clothing and finds not coins, not banknotes, but an empty packet of crisps, a rubber duck, a cracked-open geode, six identical pink glitter gel pens, a miniature flowerpot, a palmful of what he can only assume were once fruit loops, the lower half of a toothbrush and a huge rumpled-up ball of leaflets advertising a never-heard-before brand of turtle food.

                               “ Oh — Oh, God. Do you — p-please tell me you accept payment in the form of case-solving! I’m a detective, you see, a fairly good one, if fairly is understood to mean almost and good, uhm, adequate-in-all-regards-except-likelihoods-of-success. I … I have connections to the CIA!I could give you a get-out-of-prison-for-free gift voucher, o-or … oh! I could find that one object you’ve lowkey been looking for all those weeks!, the one you don’t really NEED, but would quite like to see back in your possession because its disappearance feels like a vague gnawing at the back of your mind, complete with cerebral little chomp-chomp noises! Those are destined to drive you insane in NO TIME at all. Your mental health should be WORTH a mug of hot plant water or two! ” He’s going off a hunch here, frankly, but — everyone has an object like that, and he really, really, really needs that cuppa!

Well, that certainly was an entrance. Jimmy had only just finished clearing away several glasses and their subsequent condensation marks from the group that had occupied that particular barstool, and the three on either side of it. He was setting out new coasters when the undeniably odd man  plopped down before him, cheerful demeanor clashing horribly with the state of his clothes and hair. Whatever this man had been through, his attitude seemed undeterred, and really, something about that eagerness was utterly charming. Jimmy found himself smiling at this new customer even before he’d really heard the request, too caught up in the bright yellow of his.. slightly damaged jacket, and the almost manic gleam in those blue eyes. 

The eager request for tea was met with a chuckle, once it actually processed. “I just might hold you to that,” he joked. 

“You’ve got good timing, I only just finished boiling some water,” Jimmy continued, turning to the kettle behind him. Indeed, the machine had clicked off at nearly the same moment this new man came in through the door. Jimmy spooned out a portion of tea leaves, a rather lovely fall-themed blend, spicy chai with a hint of ginger, sure to help fight against the chill that clung to the wind today. When he was readying to pour the water, he heard the unmistakable sounds of his new patron frantically pocket-checking. Ah. Seemed his day had left him with more concerns than mussed hair and a dirtied coat. 

Jimmy had barely opened his mouth to offer the cup of tea on the house when the man began to offer his services as a detective, of all things, and Jimmy turned to face him curiously, kettle still in hand and all-but-forgotten as he listened to the explanation. It was all a bit strange, really, but something about the fervent energy in the way h spoke left Jimmy smiling all over again. It was adorable, truth be told. He could see how the flurry of words might bother some, but it was, honestly, quite endearing. Still.. the emphasis on something lost nagged at his mind. Well, maybe he was being a bit silly. After all, this was a stranger. 

“Not to worry,” he said calmly. “I’ll let you have this one on the house. You seem to have had quite a day, and I imagine a nice cup of tea will do its own small part in making your day a bit better. But in exchange, you’ll have to tell me more about your detective work, okay?” he asked, and turned his attention to filling the teapot so that the leaves could steep. “Not many people ask for tea in a bar, you know,” he commented. “I usually just make it for myself.” With that comment established, he turned and dug around in a cabinet beneath where the kettle sat, pulling a half-emptied package of Tesco’s malted milk biscuits. Tucking that beneath one arm, he also retrieved an unopened pack of Chocolate-coated Digestives, ad he set both before the stranger, soon followed by a cup and saucer, and, of course, the teapot. 

“That’ll need a good two minutes to steep,” Jimmy noted, nodding at the teapot. “Goes great with honey, if you like.” A scan around the bar revealed it was nearly empty, aside from a couple of regulars in the booths, nursing their drinks and looking quite content for the moment. So Jimmy pulled his own stool up, sitting across from his colorful customer, and setting his own teacup on the bartop. “So, you’re a detective?” he asked. “Do you work with the police?” A pause, then.. “You mentioned finding objects. ...Do you maybe help find people who’ve gone missing?” 

[naturalhealthandweightloss]

Kadak Masala Chai with Moringa: Why is Auric Masala Tea The Best?

[howtobangyourmonster]

Boris, Part 1

Since people seem to like Boris and there have been requests for a story, here it is! A bit holiday-flavored and late, but I hope you like it anyway. It’s just a big pile of awkward adorkable fluff.

Part 2(nsfw)

There's this great coffee shop in my neighborhood. It's trendy and bit hipster-ish, really popular with the college crowd. I don't actually like coffee, but I brave the early morning pre-lecture rush because they make the most amazing London Fog in the city.

I like Thursdays the best because that's when their cutest barista has the morning shift. I extra don't mind getting up early for my morning cuppa on Thursdays. I'm not the only one with that opinion either, because I swear there's a good fifty per-cent more customers on Thursday mornings than the rest of the week.

This Thursday it was pouring buckets outside, and I was grateful to duck into the cafe and warm up a bit. I guess the rain was dissuading some of the regulars because the line was shorter than I'd expected. Boris, the cute barista, smiles as I approach the counter. I always wonder how he knows it's me, he doesn't have eyes(at least not that I can discern). Maybe it's scent? Oh, god, I hope not, sometimes I don't have time to shower before I come in...

“Hey, Boris!”

“Good morning! Pretty bad out there today, huh?”

“Ugh, yeah, it's like monsoon season or something.”

“Your usual?”

“Yep! Thanks.” I swipe my card and take my receipt. Sometimes I try flirty banter with him, but I'm so bad at it and I think he must cringe at my sad attempts. He's always very gracious about it and laughs at my terrible puns.

I thumb idly through my instagram while I wait. He says my name with a smile, and our fingers brush as he hands me my cup. It might sound depressing, but our brief interaction is kinda the highlight of my week. I glance down at my cup and see the little doodle of a smiling raincloud he's drawn there instead of writing my name. It's different each week. I don't keep them, I'm not that far-gone, but I do have a collection of snaps of all the doodles that I like to look through when I'm having a hard time.

I sip my London Fog in my depressing cubicle at my soul-crushing job as a glorified code monkey. The happy little rain cloud on the cup cheers me up enough that I manage to slog through the day. Maybe I'll draw him something, Christmas is coming up, I could make him a card. I'm certainly not doing much with my MFA in this hellhole.

When I get back to my apartment, I pull out my pencils and gouache supplies and start sketching.

It's almost Christmas. I haven't had as much time to work on Boris's card as I'd like. Dad's getting worse and I've been spending a lot of time helping Mom out taking care of him. I can tell we're getting close to the end, and so can she. Most of the time, she's barely keeping it together. I'm trying to be strong, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I cried myself to sleep more often than not.

The coffee shop is packed, people filling the sofas and chairs and booths, the snow outside painting the city white and making for a picture-perfect holiday scene. I get in line and check my email while I wait. When it's my turn, I put my phone away and look up, and immediately have to suppress the giggle threatening to spill out.

Boris is wearing a red santa hat with a little bell on the end, and it makes him look so cute that I nearly implode. The red of the hat brings out the pinker tones of his violet skin. He's got a holiday sweater on, too, completing the look. His shoulder spikes poke through the knit fabric.

“You're looking very festive today!”

“Yeah, 'tis the season, and all. Hey, I'm sorry, but I ran out of earl grey earlier, I sent Sasha out to get more, but...”

My heart half-sank. “Oh, that's okay, um, I can just have...”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “I've been wanting to try something, if you're up for it. You kinda inspired me.”

I'm a bit taken aback by that. I inspired him? I have to tell inner-teenage-me to calm down. “Uh, I'm game!”

“Great.” Boris grinned, showing off his tusks and sharp teeth. “I picked up this orange gingerbread chai at the import market this weekend, and it immediately made me think of you.”

He turned and busied himself with the tea, glancing over and smiling at me every so often. Truth be told, my heart was pounding and I felt like I was in tenth grade again and Jake LeSalle noticed me. Boris picks up his sharpie and scribbles on the side of the cup. He hands me the drink and I don't know if it's my mind playing tricks on me, or if his fingers linger a little longer against mine as I take it from him.

“Uh, wow, it smells great!” I take a sip. “Mmmm, oh, wow, that's really good. This definitely needs to go on the menu board.”

“Yeah?” his grin widens. “Ah, I'm so glad you like it!”

“Yeah, totally, I love yo-this, I love this, that you made, I love that you made this for me.” Oh, for fucking sake...

Boris half-smiles and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Ha, yeah, you're welcome, I guess...well, have a good day!”

Oh god, he's embarrassed for me. That was so bad. I can never come back here. “Thanks,” I reply, “you too!”

Turning to hide my shame, I glance down at the coffee cup in my hand. Instead of the usual adorable doodle, it's a phone number. A phone number, and a little heart. Oh...

My face is on fire and I glance back up, but Boris is talking to the next customer and I can't catch his attention. Instead I push back through the morning crowd and toward the door. I need some air, even cold snowy air.

It takes me all week to work up the nerve to call him. And of course he doesn't answer and I get his voicemail instead. I panic and hang up. Then call back.

“Hey, sorry, it was me earlier, the hang-up message. Sorry. I already said that. Sorry I didn't call sooner, god I'm apologizing a lot. Um, I guess you're busy, so...call me back when you can? Okay, uh, bye.”

I hang up, groan, and bury my face in my hands lest the objects in my apartment witness my shame. I jump as my phone suddenly rings. “Hello?”

“Hey, hi, it's Boris.”

“Oh, uh, hi!”

“Hi.”

Awkward pause. Why isn't he saying anything? “So...”

“Uh,” I hear him clear his throat. “So, I was wondering if you'd maybe like go ice skating with me Saturday? At the Pavilion?”

“Yeah, yes, I'd love that!” Stop saying 'love' so much!

“Great! Want to meet me at the shop, say 7? We can walk together?”

“That sounds perfect.” I try to keep the elation in my voice in check. “I'll see you then.”

“See you then.” I can hear the smile in his voice, though.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hang up, and sit for a moment, the blood rushing in my ears. I have a date. I have a date with Boris. I have a totally romantic ice skating date with Boris the hot barista. Not even my shit job can kill my buzz. I realize I still haven't finished his card, and pull out my paints. It's pretty simple, just a study of the coffee shop from the outside, in the snow, though a violet figure can be glimpsed through the window. I just hope he doesn't think it's childish, a homemade card.

Boris is waiting outside the shop for me when I walk up. He has two cups in his clawed hands, steam rising from them. He has a wool peacoat on over his usual sweater and jeans, though this one seems to have been made for him. His shoulder spikes don't poke through. Boris hands me one of the cups.

“I know you don't like coffee, but how about hot chocolate?” He smiles at me over the thick scarf wrapped around his neck.

“I love hot chocolate! Thank you.��� I smile back at him as I take the cup. “Shall we?”

We start slowly strolling along the sidewalk, the crunch of snow under our feet. The trees that line the street are decked out in string lights and everything feels magical. I love this time of year.

“I've been wanting to ask you out for a long time, you know.” Boris is looking straight ahead, but he has a little smirk on his face.

“Yeah? What stopped you?” I have to admit, I am curious.

“To be honest, I wasn't sure if you were into me or not. I mean, we flirt and I draw pictures on your cup, but I couldn't tell if we were just friendly flirting or flirting flirting, you know?”

“Wait, don't you draw pictures on everyone's cups? I just thought that was something you did?”

“No,” Boris looks down at me, his expression warm and affectionate. “Just for you.”

He reaches over and takes my hand in his, long claws resting lightly against the back of my hand. I swallow, thickly.

“Oh.” is all I can manage.

We walk in silence for a ways after that, my hand in his. His skin isn't rough, but it is firmer than mine, and surprisingly warm. The Pavilion comes into view ahead of us, lights and festive garlands all over it, the sound of the carousel music wafting out at us.

Inside, there is a modest ice rink next to the antique wooden carousel. I haven't been ice skating since I was a kid, and I tell him so.

“Neither have I, actually. It's okay, we can support each other.”

Boris and I pick up our skates from the counter and lace in. He's already steadier on his feet than I am, but we're both pretty slow and careful as we step onto the ice. We sort of shuffle along slowly, me clinging to his side like a barnacle. It's pretty nice, almost like cuddling.

After about an hour of clinging to each other and falling down, repeatedly, we decide our egos and knees are bruised enough. We grab some food at one of the food trucks outside the Pavilion and settle onto one of the benches near the carousel.

We chat over steaming bowls of rice and bulgogi and I learn he has an older sister and a younger brother, but both his parents have passed. I talk a bit about my dad, but I don't go into details, too heavy for a first date. Boris is a really good listener. We discover we share a love of terrible horror movies.

“Yeah, my great-uncle actually played the monster in that one.”

“You're kidding!” I gasp. “You're related to Chneya Szim?! I looooove 'Horror From The Deep'!”

“Ha, he'd have loved to hear that, he was such a ham. That whole side of my family was big in the industry back in the '50s.” Boris grins, fork in hand. I'm always amazed at how expressive his face is, even without eyebrows or eyes. The folds on the upper half of his face are much more flexible and pliant than they seem at first glance.

“How'd your family get involved in that?”

“Well, my great-great-grandparents were first-generation extradimensionals, back when the tears were uncontrolled, they just kinda fell through. My great-great-grandpa was working construction on a backlot when some character actor quit and they needed someone fast. The director saw him, and let's be honest, we're waaaay scarier than the foam and rubber suits you humans were wearing back then in the movies.” Boris looks a little sad. “He didn't really like playing monsters in movies, I guess back in our dimension he was some kind of professor, but work was hard to find and he had kids by that point, you know?”

“I'm sorry.” I have a sharp stab of guilt about my earlier enthusiasm for basically ex-ploitation flicks.

“Hey, it was the '50s, right? Anyway, it kind of became a family business, and my great-uncle really took to it well. Thus spawning the 'Horrors' franchise.” He grimaces. “The whole disco-phase in the '70s embarrassed the hell out him, though.”

“What disco-phase? Everyone knows 'Return to the Deep' was the last 'Horrors' film.” I reply, gamely.

“Oh, of course! I'm mistaken.” he laughs. “What about you? Other than your latte order and your penchant for horror movies, I don't actually know a whole lot about you.”

“Uh, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.” His face is so open and earnest. I swallow my discomfort.

“Well, I got my MFA at XSU a few years ago, and I do web design for some local corporations, I work mainly at an office share downtown, but I do some stuff from home. It's kind of soul-killing, to be honest. When I graduated, I thought I was gonna take over the world, you know, and instead I'm grinding away at a 9-to-5 in a cubicle, well, more like 7-to-6.”

“You don't do any of your own stuff anymore?” Boris asks.

“I do a little, when I have time, but between work and helping out at home, I mean at my folks' place, there's not a lot of energy left over for my own art. I do miss it though, creating something just for the joy of it.” I dig around in my purse. “Actually, the last thing I made of my own is for you.”

I hand him the card in it's red envelope. He turns it over slowly, examining it in some way I can't understand. “This is for me?”

“Yeah, I hope you like it.” I bite my lip, very nervous.

Boris slices the envelope open with one claw and pulls out the card. On the front is my watercolor of the coffee shop. After a moment, he opens the card and appears to be reading, his brows coming together. I had tried to keep my message simple and not too romantic, in case the date went badly.

“This is...beautiful. Thank you.” he looks back up at me. “You painted this?”

“Yeah, it was nice to flex my watercolor muscles. I'm glad you like it.”

“It's really good. Why don't you show your work in galleries? There's that art walk every first Friday of the month, we always hang up local artists' work in the shop.”

“The gallery scene in this city is ridiculously hard to break into, unless you know someone or you get 'discovered' I guess.”

“You should let me hang some of your work up in the shop, there's a gallery guy who comes in all the time. I'm sure he'd love your stuff.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “That's really sweet, but I don't want to get you in trouble with your boss...”

“I am the boss.” Boris states, flatly.

I blink. “What?”

“I own the shop. It's mine. I live in the apartment above it.”

“Oh, I didn't, I feel silly for assuming you just worked there, now.” I reply. I guess I never thought about how old he was, extradimensionals don't really visibly age, I assumed he was close to my own age and just working in the coffee shop. “How old are you? Just, I realized I don't actually know, and-”

“And you suddenly worry you're out with a 50-year-old guy?” he jokes.

“Not that that's bad, or anything!” I try to recover, in case he really is 50.

“I'm 32.” he responds. Oh, well then.

“And you own your own business, nice.”

“Don't be too impressed, I inherited it from my folks. Tycha, my sister, wasn't interested in running the shop, and Zloan went into film like Dad's side of the family. Except he's directing instead of acting. So it's me.”

“Do you like running the shop?” I ask.

“I do. I really do. I love the sense of community. I grew up here, you know, and while I've traveled my fair share, I always knew I was going to come back here to stay.”

“Well, I'm glad for that, you make the best London Fog in the city.”

“Ha, so I've been told.”

Our walk back to the shop is easy and slow, our conversation drifting back to horror movies, then to horror novels, books in general, the writing-a-novel-at-the-coffee-shop trope, and some amusing stories about his regulars. He walks me the extra distance to my place, after asking if it's okay. Apparently he had me meet him at the coffee shop in case I didn't want him to know where I lived, in case the date went poorly. Turns out we're both pragmatic realists. Or pessimists. Whichever. I do not mind him knowing where I live.

“I had a really great time tonight, thanks for inviting me out.” I say as we pause at my door.

“I had a really great time, too. I'm really glad you called.” he smiles down at me, hands in his coat pockets, as he leans against the wall. “Eventually.”

He's teasing me. I deserve it.

“Yeah, well, I had to work up the nerve, you're intimidatingly handsome.” I toss back.

He ducks his head down and chuckles. “Well, I'm glad you think so. Can I see you again?”

“Yes, absolutely. If you want, we can stay in and watch terrible horror movies, order some delivery?”

He straightens up and gives me a satisfied half-smile. “It's a date. Can I kiss you goodnight?”

“Absolutely.”

We both lean in to the kiss, his hand brushing my cheek as I stretch up on my tiptoes because he's just so damn tall. After a few moments I feel his tongue brush against my mouth and I part my lips slightly. Boris deepens the kiss, his tusks ghosting over my skin. I sigh into his mouth as we part.

“That was a hell of a first kiss.” he remarks, sounding a little breathless.

“I have high hopes for the second one, too.” I can't hide my smile as I open my door. “Goodnight, Boris. See you Thursday.”

“Goodnight.”

[terpernoctem]

well well well 

guess who’s back 

back again 

mercury retrogradeeeeee

yayyyyyy

tell a friend

but also me! hi 

welp

it’s feb 2nd, also known in certain circles (beaver haters) groundhog day, and well well well, Punx Phil was quite direct (unlike our pal Mercury), winter is gonna stick for 6 more bloody weeks

surprise surprise

i’ve been back into town for a good week now—well more than a week actually, but it did take me a week as always to re-adjust to Northern Hemisphere. i know there’s only a 3 hour-difference between home and here but maaaannn. they fuck me up. in a good way—kind of. I’m up at 6am. 

anyways—so i’m back, children. *raging wave of applause* 

and guess what

the world is still very much shit

hahaaaaaaaa *screams into pillow for countenance*

i read in Courrier International that Paris (and by Paris they mean France—or is it the other way around) was seen as a “ghost town” by many and after today, I can tell you that this my lads, is indeed very much accurate. I had my very big first Covid-fatigue induced meltdown today while staring blankly at the pages of the book that i took at the park (it sounds like i took the book on a walk, like a pet—accurate). i suddenly felt an almost unbearable tsunami of sadness and nostalgia combined, not really sure where one begun and the other ended. i’ve been mostly fine with the state of things since the summer (and by mostly fine I mean, having the occasional meltdown about twice a week in the comfort of my own home) 

to be fair i think i’ve been handling it quite well— i have a well thought-out plan for the next few months until spring, i do yoga, i’m moving my body again, i’m trying out new recipes

but mannnnn.

idk

maybe it’s the contrast between what it’s like back home (mostly fine, scaldingly sunny, restaurants etc are open) and here (not that at all). maybe it’s the goddamn Mercury retrograde hitting me. it’s true, i usually don’t mind the winter. and what do i do when i do feel the gloomies? i go to a café and have a good steaming cuppa. i walk to the greenhouses. i go to the movies to cry my heart out for two hours. i grab a drink (or twelve) with friends. 

welp. none of that is available atm. 

and i kept thinking about all of these while my body tried to feel out this new pattern, which felt too much like the old one, but was still miles from it. i thought of the life “before”, about my old habits, and the old faces peopling my daily routines, and favorite places, the coffees-to-go, the occasional dates (ugh, though I do admit I do not miss these), the trips, the sunday night gigs! the friday mornings in the café, the days off spent walking around town

fuck

and i know, i knooooooooow. i know that these feelings are very much first-world problems in the grand scheme of things. and tbh i’m grateful for this crisis, in a way (just a little way), in the sense that it pushed me to grow up and grow a deeper political conscience, and etc. 

but god, i just wanted to smell the camellias in the greenhouse today. sit in a café and wonder if the bartender is looking at me or just has a lazy eye. 

i just want to not feel the crushing weight of everything that is wrong with our reality. 

now all i do is walk around, trying to ground myself in this reality, but even after months of it, i still feel like a chicken without her head. all i do is walk around without a purpose, forging ahead.

but ahead of what? 

edit: in the end it was alright, too. existential dread aside, that is. i had a good old moan with a friend, she convinced me to get a chai latte, so i hiked up in the heart of town to get one to go, had a nice chat with the owner of the coffee place, bought chocolate AND flowers, went home and stopped on the bridge to have my chai in the rain, watched the river overflow beneath my feet. and on my way home a girl told me my coat was dope and that i looked like a russian empress (which was 100% the intention behind it). then practiced yoga and meditated and i will now have a shower, a nice dinner with my book (Wintering, by Katherine May btw—very good). all is well. i’m amongst the lucky ones, i know that. and i’m grateful to whatever deity working in my favor cause wowwwiiiiieeee. times are...yeah. 

Strength to yall. <3 

[krishmashah19]

Different Ways You Can Eat Tea

Are you obsessed with tea like we are? Here are 5 ways you can include Tea in your meals besides that regular cuppa that we all enjoy every day:

Replace stock for tea in your soups

Sometimes the desire for soup comes on strong, but the pantry or freezer is short on stock. Have no fear; get busy steeping! Dragon Well green tea and Lapsang Souchong black tea are the two types of tea to keep on hand for brewing your own substitute stock. The green tea works well with vegetables, fish, and poultry, lending its savory, more mellow notes. The black tea offers a smoky flavor that pairs well with beef, mushrooms, and more hearty flavorful ingredients. Rooibos is a caffeine-free infusion that would lend its earthy, honey-toned notes to the soup too.

Mix into your spice mix

Think of tea bags as convenient, pre-portioned spice packets. When ripped open, the finely cut leaves resemble oregano or basil and can be sprinkled into recipes just like those herbs. Stir a teaspoon or two of tea from bags of Moroccan mint green tea into Greek yogurt with other spices to take a dip, or add the leaves to a veggie-filled quiche custard.

Add to poaching liquids

Brewed tea works wonders when it comes to poached dishes. It imparts subtle nuances that infuse into both aromatics and protein while cooking. Try poaching Portobello mushrooms in smoky Lapsang Souchong black tea, or some fish in a broth of jasmine green tea with fresh ginger and onions.

Cook your beans and grains with it

Swap out water for brewed tea when cooking your next pot of beans or rice! Lapsang Souchong black tea imparts a hint of smokiness to beans, while Matcha green tea gives the rice a grassy green color and flavor.

Infuse into your dessert

Whole-fat dairy and tea marry well together. Infuse puddings or custards with the subtle flavors of tea by steeping tea in warmed milk. The tea-infused milk dresses up desserts with a bit of intrigue — try infusing Earl Grey tea into chocolate custards, or some chai spice in a batch of pudding pops.

Here is a collection of our favorite recipes using our absolute fav kinds of tea:

Chai Creamsicles: Assam Black Tea

Chocolate Matcha Butter Cups: Matcha Tea

Strawberries with Chamomile Cream: Chamomile Tea

[madamehearthwitch]

Chai Masala and a Story

photo source

Was chatting with @curiouslyheathen​ today about tea (I really do mean it when I say please feel free to shoot me messages and just chat about stuff if you see me blogging!) and they said I should post my Chai Masala recipe.

A couple notes about “chai tea”. Technically chai means tea so literally we here on “the continent” call it tea-tea, but that’s a whole other thing. Masala is a spice mix. So you can have all sorts of different kind of masalas. Chai Masala is a black tea, with milk, and spices. What those spices are can vary greatly according to personal taste and where they learned how to make it.

I was taught by this wonderful woman I used to work for who only spoke Hindi. I taught her children how to speak and write English, and they would always insist that I stay afterwards. The food was... incredible. It was my first experience with authentic non-American food and I was in love. Looking back, I am certain that was the very root of my kitchen witchery. Through some rough translations and lots of made-up sign language I managed to convey that I wanted to learn how to cook. And I would spend hours after the lessons in the kitchen with her and Naani.

The keynote flavor for most (all?) chai masala is the green cardamom. That’s what gives it the spicy and sharp note that is the signature flavor. There might be many different versions of this drink, but if it doesn’t have green cardamom, it’s not chai masala, lmao. (that is 100% my own opinion)

The Recipe (finally, right?)

10-15 green cardamom pods (lightly crack them open with a mortar and pestle or flat side of a knife)

1 stick cinnamon

1 inch ginger (cut into 4-5 slices -I leave the skin on)

5 cloves

2 tsp loose black tea (tea bags can also be used)

2 C water

sweetener to taste (I like to use honey, raw sugar, or agave)

In a saucepan on the lower side of medium, and let it simmer for 15-20 minutes. I like a good strong tea (like the gods and irish intended) so I’ve been known to let it go 25 min or so.

Turn down to low and add 1 C of milk just to warm it a bit. (If you are making the chai masala ahead of time you can skip this step and add the milk whenever you do want to drink it)

Once it’s simmered away, use a fine mesh strainer or cheese cloth to filter out the spices and tea as you pour into a mug. Top with a sprinkle of cinnamon and enjoy!

One thing that I will often do when I have a busy week coming up is make up a bunch of the tea and leave out the milk. Then I store it in a jar in the fridge, heating it up with a spot of milk whenever I want a cuppa.

***

This is the version of chai masala that was taught to me. However it really is up to personal taste. So tweak and play with the combinations, try new things (many chai masala recipes call for anise but I would rather light my mouth on fire than use anise in a drink) and figure out what works for you!

[stellxuk]

Day 1 - Kensington Gardens/ Buckingham Palace/ Westminister Bridge/ Checking in/ The Fish House

London, 7am. I got on the Heathrow Express for a straight train ride to Paddington station before transiting to High Street Kensington, where I’ll be dropping off my luggage at my Airbnb hosts’ office. It was already quite a navigational process to find the Heathrow Express platform just ‘cause I wasn’t used to needing to take a monorail to another terminal to get to customs and head out of Terminal 5. I remember queueing even with others to get my passport stamped, only to have the customs officer firmly tell me that I could’ve gone through the e-gate. Already embarrassed I walked through the lane and as my mom had always reminded me, check and make sure your passport’s stamped. There was no stamp. So I approached another customs officer and he looked at me, eyebrows furrowed, physically it didn’t make sense, yet I was asking a rather outdated question.

“You don’t need a stamp anymore.” Ah.

High Street Kensington felt familiar, with my first pret-a-manger in sight – a place that would’ve served me very well to buffer time and grab quick bites in the following days. 

At my Airbnb hosts’ office, conveniently just across the road, the receptionist (French 20-something who thinks she’s superior with her bob and straight bangs) rudely brushed me off by saying nobody’s in the office yet so I’d just have to wait. I was too tired to argue and had no reason to be equally sassy so I waited, it was by then 8am in the morning anyway so I was ahead of schedule. However, sitting in the lobby watching other office-workers and executive members walk in an out, eyeballing me and giving subtle looks, I got increasingly uncomfortable and wondered if the lady was going to ignore me perpetually. Thank goodness she approached right on cue then with a nicer tone, asking to follow her to the office. 

It was a quick straight walk down to Kensington Gardens, and with the morning light the barren trees gave off sepia hues in the cool winter. The grass, however, thrived in luscious green and abundance. There were so many dog walkers, but all rather aloof to my smiles at their pups, who also trotted along and paid no heel. I started snapping away – of William and Kate’s abode (the Kensington Palace), of a lone man walking down a narrow path separating two large grass fields, of the pond inhabited by swans that swam so close to the edge you could see them eye to eye. I r e a l l y loved the pond at Kensington Gardens, circular and central to the park, I didn’t care that I looked like some greenhorn who’d never seen anything so typical of a park as others just jogged past with their ears plugged. I live just opposite a reservoir, yet this pond – its serenity in the cold, the swans’ majestically floating, ducks pruning their feathers by the edges – was a sight to behold. It overwritten all the rough encounters I had earlier in the morning.

Walking further down to Hyde Park I was headed to Buckingham Palace for their changeover at 10am. Crossing the road to enter Buckingham Palace Green, I saw that my phone was soon dying. But shit. I had left my portable charger in my carry-on that had been left at the office. My first onset panic mode. I was contemplating whether to take the walk back, albeit far but still manageable, to grab my portable charger and re-walk the whole route to hopefully make it in time for the changeover at the Palace. Or should I just keep going, since after the palace I just wanted to walk around the city for a bit and head back in a couple of hours in time to check in to the Airbnb. While my head battled the options on the outside I was calmly making my way further and further from the office, and so I guessed my feet had made the decision for me. We walk on and hope I won’t be crippled without access to Google Maps.

Buckingham Palace! There was already a crowd lined up, flagging themselves to the gates and looking through the thin steel railings to see the guards marching to and fro intermittently. I found a spot to squeeze in between 2 families and took it all in. At one point the Royal Mail van drove in, and a couple of luxury cars were also taking their exit. People were also seated around (and on) the Victoria Memorial just opposite. 

I checked the time – 9.30am, I didn’t think there’d be much to do for 30 minutes, plus we were on a time crunch cause my battery was at 10%. So I decided to forgo the ceremony and continued walking.

Making a turn down to birdcage walk I chanced upon this area (?) called the Victoria Nova/ The Nova Building. Thinking maybe I can grab a proper bite, the only thing that attracted me was a standalone push cart called the Chai Guys. You guessed it, they were selling coffee but more importantly, chai. I got my first cuppa and their design was so cute I had to take that typical arm-extended-against-cityscape shot:

Looking at the underground sign at the entrance of Victoria station I contemplated yet again to take the train back to High Street Kensington to grab my portable charger before getting back on my itinerary (you can see how ensuring my phone stays alive has killed some fun and ability of being in the moment). But the thought of needing to explain myself to the rude French receptionist and trouble her to escort me up and down again deterred me entirely. Instead, I circled back again to Buckingham Palace to see if the changeover had started.

Thinking I’ll keep walking instead of stopping to watch the whole thing, in order to get back on track and head towards the city, I managed to catch them just walking in to the palace. The crowd grew bigger and there were security personnels warning people to carry their backpacks on their fronts because there’re pickpocketed lurking in this area. That all the more made me want to keep walking.

Another 5-10 minutes and I found the famous red telephone booth. I didn’t trust want someone to help take a picture for me so I wanted just the memory of a lone telephone booth. I eventually had to wait a minute for it because couples, mother-daughter duos and tween groups were all taking turns to enter the booth and take their signature interactive poses. From the aloof locals, to how easily my space could be “invaded” and presence kinda looked over, London was starting to make me feel a little transparent and for a split second it hit me that I was really alone. 

What happened next didn’t help to soothe my soul in any way. After the telephone booths, past Westminister Abbey, was of course the Westminister bridge that would lead me into the city centre of London. It was a very very very busy bridge – everyone was almost passing through shoulder-to-shoulder and I had my eye on a pop up store selling souvenirs when suddenly a lady stopped me and started shoving a clipboard and a pen against my torso.

“For the deaf and blind. Please sign.” She chanted, refusing my refusals and letting me walk ahead. Soon another guy and woman on her team cornered me and continued pressurising me to sign it. I knew what this was – one of those petitions where after you “harmlessly” sign you’d have to make a mandatory donation, something I was already warned about by my colleague. So I kept saying “No”, zig-zagging to pass them but they locked me down and met me even when I pushed through the crowd to get to the other side of the bridge. Finally as I was saying my 100th no, this time also physically pushing away her clipboard, the lady interrupted me with a mumble in a foreign language before dropping everything and walking away. It was instant. Like an off-switch was activated inside of her. I was slightly perturbed as to why she’d suddenly give up, and what exactly she was mumbling about, when an instinct kicked in to look down and check my bag. My heart dropped when I saw my fanny pack zipped open, my camera (which took up the bulk of the space) in plain sight.

I rushed to a quieter corner at the end of the bridge and rummaged through my things. Passport, wallet, oyster card, they were all intact. But I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was there something more valuable I was forgetting that should’ve been inside? I hurried again, almost deliriously, to someplace I could properly sit down, catch my breath, slow my heart rate, and be sure that I wasn’t just pickpocketed. 

Finally I saw there was a Starbucks and I took a sit outside among pigeons nibbling on leftovers and families feeding their children in prams to take out my things and account for each one. Nothing was lost, seriously. I didn’t know how to find relief, a part of me wanted to just retreat and go back to the unwelcoming office lobby. But I’d have to find a way that didn’t involve passing that damn Westminister bridge again. Throughout the entire trip I’d never revisited that bridge.

“Just keep going, Estella. Don’t let this ruin the day.” And so I did. I walked along Southbank, took that quintessential tourist picture of the London Eye, of the National Theatre, and ended up at Gabriel’s Wharf. Thinking I’ll finally (finally) have my first meal at this fish and chips restaurant, I walked away because of the crowd and the price for a simple Dory’s fish and chips. 

I ended up at OXO Tower Wharf, which seemed like a Design Orchard equivalent with cubic spaces across two floors that showcase the works of up and coming designers and artists. Walking into a quirky design store, I thought I’d be able to find a portable charger but alas, there were Frida Kahlo lip balms and kids schoolbags in the shape of a space rocket, but absolutely z e r o portable chargers. I was at 2%, and Blackfriars bridge was where I threw in the white flag. I was supposed to make it all the way to Borough market, but I clearly had underestimated the walk, and it was enough risking (and turn of events) for the day. 

I settled for a chicken salad from LEON and sat by the window, people watching as friends met up at the entrance of High Street Kensington station, grandmas got ready to head out with their daughters and grandchildren, mature couples stepping in to Marks and Spencers for their daily shopping. Even though my phone was dying, I was struggling with time because it was 1pm, an odd time to be heading to the office and waiting to check in until 3pm. But there wasn’t enough time to grab my portable charger and head out again. So I just sat at LEON, in slight disbelief of the sights and sounds I had encountered in a mere 5+ hours. London, baby. 

We were inching to 2pm when I could no longer hog the seat at LEON, so I took a stroll into the famous Boots store just adjacent to the station, and took a look at Zara Home just opposite. Oh yes, I’d also forgotten to bring my glasses on the trip, so I walked into a prescription store along the street as well but soon realised it was a dumb move because frames alone were minimally 50 pounds (and those were ugly). My astigmatism isn’t dreadful enough for me to spend money on a pair of glasses that would be deemed useless once I got back to Singapore.

Finally, finally, after a little more waiting in the lobby (the French receptionist had ended her shift and now a nice 20-something male Londoner helmed the desk) I could finally check in to my Airbnb. I took a quick 2-stop bus ride down to Notting Hill Gate and arrived at the bright pink door. Lugging my suitcase up the 4 flights of stairs was THE WORST, and I soon came face-to-face with the small cubic loft that, in the following days, would’ve risen my anxiety levels with its misleading paper thin walls that made me purvy to when every neighbour was coming home, opening their doors (which often sounded like they were trying to barge through mine), stepping into showers, and when the garbage collector came on Wednesday morning and made such a ruckus I thought a fight broke out along the street. 

After taking a video tour of the place and sending it to Mom, I settled in, changed and freshened up for dinner. It was at a nearby fish and chips place called the Fish House. No more adventurous trails and exploring for me. The restaurant was in a quaint shophouse with a very tiny shopfront where you could order takeaways. To get a seat, you’d then have to take another 2 narrow flights of stairs up to their topmost floor. When I arrived a family had just finished their dinner so by the time I ordered I had the whole place to myself (which I thought was quite iffy cause Google shown great reviews). The fish and chips was alright, along with the cup of hot tea, and after an hour or so I made my leave and called it a night.

[megheshstuff]

5 Ways to Eat your Tea

Are you obsessed with tea like we are? Here are 5 ways you can include Tea in your meals besides that regular cuppas that we all enjoy everyday:

Replace stock for tea in your soups

Sometimes the desire for soup comes on strong, but the pantry or freezer is short on stock. Have no fear; get busy steeping! Dragon Well green tea and Lapsang Souchong black tea are the two types of tea to keep on hand for brewing your own substitute stock. The green tea works well with vegetables, fish, and poultry, lending its savory, more mellow notes. The black tea offers a smoky flavor that pairs well with beef, mushrooms, and more hearty flavorful ingredients. Rooibos is a caffeine-free infusion that would lend its earthy, honey-toned notes to soup too.

Try making butternut squash soup with rooibos, and chicken soup with Dragon Well green tea. It will add savory, herbaceous flavor that would match up well with the chicken and could even be the base for a white chili.

Mix into your spice mix

Think of tea bags as convenient, pre-portioned spice packets. When ripped open, the finely cut leaves resemble oregano or basil and can be sprinkled into recipes just like those herbs. Stir a teaspoon or two of tea from bags of Moroccan mint green tea into Greek yogurt with other spices to make a dip, or add the leaves to a veggie-filled quiche custard.

Add to poaching liquids

Brewed tea works wonders when it comes to poached dishes. It imparts subtle nuances that infuse into both aromatics and protein while cooking. Try poaching Portobello mushrooms in smoky Lapsang Souchong black tea, or some fish in a broth of jasmine green tea with fresh ginger and onions.

Cook your beans and grains with it

Swap out water for brewed tea when cooking your next pot of beans or rice! Lapsang Souchong black tea imparts a hint of smokiness to beans, while Matcha green tea gives rice a grassy green color and flavor.

Infuse into your dessert

Whole-fat dairy and tea marry well together. Infuse puddings or custards with the subtle flavors of tea by steeping tea in warmed milk. The tea-infused milk dresses up desserts with a bit of intrigue — try infusing Earl Grey tea into chocolate custards, or some chai spice in a batch of pudding pops.

Here is a collection of our favorite recipes using our absolute fav kinds of tea:

Chai Creamsicles: Assam Black Tea

Lemon cream pie with earl grey shortbread crust: Earl Grey Tea

Chocolate Matcha Butter Cups: Matcha Tea

Strawberries with Chamomile Cream: Chamomile Tea

Pictures and Information: Credit to Source Website