#wholemeal bread right?

[cjadewyton]

I could never move too far away from my childhood home not for any like nostalgic reasons but because my local bread shop is SO FUCKIN G GOOOOOOOOOOOD and the few times I’ve travelled interstate I have SUFFERED without it

So soft

So fresh

So tasty

[luveline]

hurt/comfort for hotch

maybe he’s been having a hard couple of days at work and says something rude to reader, that he doesn’t mean, he’s just frustrated. then they talk it outttt<3

ty for requesting ♡ fem!reader, 1k

"Did you get wholemeal bread for Jack's lunch?" Aaron asks.

You wince where you're sitting at the table, closing the book you're reading over your fingers. "No. I knew I forgot something, I just couldn't remember what," you lament. You'll have to get some before the grocery store closes at nine. 

You check your watch, a little silver thing that cost too much of Aaron's money, and you're so focused on telling time you almost miss his biting remark. 

"It's fine," he says bitterly. "I'll get it in the morning. I shouldn't have asked you." 

Your first instinct is to react in a similar fashion. "Ah, but you ask so little of me." 

He flinches at your tone. You hate to see it, and regret what you've said immediately, but it's not as if he were being particularly kind himself. A weird, stringy silence pulls between you, a tightrope waiting to buckle. The first to walk will be the first to fall; with the mood he's in, he'll bite. Tonight, you're miffed enough to bite back. 

Pissed, you stand up, grabbing your coat where it's draped across the table. 

Aaron holds out a hand. "Wait a second." 

"I don't want a fight," you say honestly. "It doesn't matter. I'll go get bread and we can forget about it." 

"I don't want to forget about it. I'm not being fair." 

You let your arms hang, coat in a ball against your thighs. "Aaron…" 

"It wasn't fair. Sorry." 

It obviously wasn't fair. Everyone forgets things no matter how hard they try, but you recognise that Aaron just got back from a week away. He's stressed, exhausted, and things need to feel normal for him. He asked you for something and you let him down. 

"It's a loaf of bread, Aaron," you murmur, defeated. "I didn't mean to forget." 

"I know." He rubs his brows, melting the last of your defences as he hangs his head. 

To love someone, you have to give in. There are times where you feel hurt and you have to forgive him before you're strictly ready to do so, because he's his own worst enemy in times like this. Though it's harder now, because you're not used to his derision. Disapproval, silent annoyance, sure. 

You put your coat down. 

"Since when are you sarcastic?" you ask gently, stepping into his space. You tilt your head a touch to the side, braceleting the crook of his elbow in a loving hand.

His eyes crease at the corners, short wrinkles stark, shadows beneath them. "I haven't been sleeping well, away from you both," he says. 

You trace the surface of his rough cheek with your eyes before bringing a tentative hand to it, thumb catching against stubble as you smooth it toward his ear. He doesn't smell like anything he usually carries, no aftershave or cologne nor laundry detergent, and the shirt he wears isn't sharply collared. It's safe to say he hadn't planned to be away that long, and even though he's home, he's not home yet in his head. You don't know how else to prove it, stroking his face, cheek in your palm, your other hand climbing his arm to rest over the hill of his pec. His heart capers under your touch. 

"I didn't mean it," he says. 

"I know," you say. Aaron often makes you feel small in the best way, his height, his naturally protective instincts, he stands by your side and you trust him to take care of you. You don't have to look out for yourself when he's in arm's reach. You aren't tall, aren't half as imposing, but you can try to offer him the same comfort. 

"You just need to relax. I get that it's not as easy to leave your work at the door as you want, but you… it's hard for me too. I need your help," you say. 

He closes his eyes. 

"Sorry," you say softly. "For forgetting. And for being sore about it. You don't put too much on me." 

"No, I do. You're right, I ask for a lot." 

"I have a lot to give, Hotchner," you murmur. 

He nods and you really do forgive him, then. You know he's only tired. You don't have to take it personally. 

"Would you hug me?" you ask.

Take care of him by letting him take care of you; he's visibly and heartbreakingly relieved to be asked, wrapping his arms around you. You love the way he hugs no matter how he's feeling, like you're something that needs a gentle hand. 

"Don't hug me too long, Paula's closes in twenty minutes." 

His fingers spread over the small of your back. "It doesn't even matter. Jack asked me for wholemeal bread and turkey and I wanted to get something right for once." 

"With mustard?" you ask. 

"He's a weird kid sometimes," Aaron says. He gets a bit of pep back, giving you a sway from one side to the other. "I'll get the bread in the morning, and I won't act like an ungrateful idiot when I do." 

"I don't think ungrateful is the right word." 

"But idiot's fine?" Aaron asks, his laugh warming your cheek. He kisses it twice in succession, hands roving up, and up, before lifting his head to tuck you neatly beneath his chin. "It's right." 

"What do you want me to say?" you ask coyly. 

"Alright," he says with a laugh, his chuckle vibrating in your arms where you've curled them behind his neck. 

"You're not an idiot–" 

"No, because now I know you don't mean it," he says. Finally, some light in his tone, that playful drawl that demarcates Hotchner-style flirtation. 

"You're not!" you say, leaning back enough to kiss the dip under his jaw. "You're just moody," you mumble into his skin. 

"And you're too good to me." 

"No, I'm not," you say. "You're better than you think." 

He pats your back gently. "You're biassed, honey."

You're super biassed. "Nope. Totally impartial." 

[stevieschrodinger]

Wayne is a good guy. He's solid. He's dependable. He does his best.

There was always, always, food on the table. The thing is though, money was, sometimes tight, so the food might sometimes be...a little strange. They made the best of what they had, and Eddie never went hungry...even if that was because he was eating turkey and raspberry jelly on wonderbread.

This becomes so normal to Eddie, that he just doesn't see it anymore. The first time Steve watches Eddie put ketchup on chocolate cake he nearly has a hernia. Eddie swears it brings out the flavour of the chocolate.

Eddie puts mayonnaise on EVERYTHING.

Potted meat and pineapple, both straight of the tin, is a legitimate combination, 'its just ham and pineapple, Steve'

Scrambled egg on boiled potatoes, 'what? You have hash browns and egg together right? Basically the same thing.'. Steve is absolutely certain it's not the same thing.

The first time Steve gives Eddie a pop tart, he just eats it. Steve's too horrified to try and explain that it's supposed to go in the toaster first.

Steve figures, very quickly, that if it isn't processed into the shape of a nugget or straight out of a can...Eddie has no real experience of it. So he starts cooking. He makes a chicken Parm, and the sauce is 90% blended vegetables. He figures out that stir fry spinach with garlic and soy sauce is something that Eddie will eat bowls of because he thinks it's fancy rich people 'side salad'.

Eddie has no fucking idea what a side salad even is.

Steve makes Mac and cheese and the sauce is mostly blended carrots, and he makes everything in advance because he absolutely cannot risk Eddie finding out. Eddie has no idea how Steve makes Kraft boxed Mac and cheese taste so good. He has no idea Steve has had the same empty Kraft box for months, and he pulls it out every time he makes Mac and cheese, leaving the box casually on the counter, just so Eddie doesn't get suspicious.

Eddie doesn't butter his toast, he has it dry and then dips it in his black coffee, and Steve knows that it's habit. It's what Eddie knows. It's from over a decade of making do. So Steve watches it happen, safe in the knowledge that at least while Eddie is here, with Steve, that's the good shit wholemeal bread with the seeds and stuff on it.

[jomiddlemarch]

The Philosophy Inherent in Buttered Toast

Within a week of Shirley’s departure, Susan found that she could not fall asleep, no matter how much she exhausted herself; the windowpanes had never sparkled brilliantly so in the morning sunlight. She’d dare Miss Cornelia Bryant herself to find the smallest speck on the kitchen floor. She concocted impossible delicacies to try and tempt Mrs. Doctor, muttering under her breath about the various culinary restrictions and how she’d like to see anyone make a decent pie with the miserly amount of lard she was allotted, and she starched the Doctor’s collars so thoroughly he’d begged her to stop as he couldn’t turn his head when he drove out to see his patients, especially not that sharp curve onto the road over to the Lower Glen. Work, hard work that left her with a sore back and aching knees and hands too rough to get a pair of gloves onto for Sunday service, had always been a panacea, just as Mrs. Doctor had her garden and Mrs. Reverend had her needlework. 

Once Shirley left, after a brief kiss on her cheek and a little squeeze of her hand as she gave him a neatly tied up box lunch for the train, the week’s sugar ration used up in his favorite sweets, she turned her hand to the plow as it were and expected to find some respite. Instead she found herself lying in her narrow bed, a stripe of moonlight across the foot, her eyes burning, wide open. Her body longed for rest but her mind, her heart, her very soul itself would not allow it, as un-Christian a thought as that might be. She’d drift off in snatches in the early morning, wake with the fog of dreams, a confusion dispelled by the splash of water in the basin and the cold cloth scrubbed across her face. She felt every one of her years like a millstone and if she hadn’t already been plain Susan Baker since she’d outgrown the very little prettiness she’d had a child, someone, likely that outspoken Mary Vance, would have remarked that old Susan Baker looked quite poorly.

She began by reciting psalms to herself and then all her favorite hymns but it made no difference. Unlike Mrs. Doctor, she took no delight in watching the moon wax and wane and thought only a man could have come up with the constellations, the greatest waste of time she could think of and nothing but a lot of foolish nonsense. She took to drinking her tea as strong as she could steep it, nearly black. Coffee was too dear to waste and had to be saved for the Doctor. If he nodded off over his surgery, Susan Baker would be the one responsible for the poor soul under his knife’s untimely passing. She was comforted when Shirley enclosed a brief note addressed to Mother Susan in the letter he’d sent to his parents and sisters, but the relief of knowing him safe didn’t see her dozing in her rocking chair, let alone tucked up snug in her bed.

She remembered something Walter had once said, that there was poetry in the most ordinary things, how he’d gone on and on about a perfectly buttered piece of her toast, sliced just the right thickness, the butter spread smooth and even to the brown crust. She was known for her bread, that was common knowledge in Glen St. Mary, whether it was a white loaf or wholemeal, but she’d thought if she hadn’t loved Walter since he was a tot, she would have given a mighty sniff at his folderol. Now, though, she thought perhaps making a list of all the ordinary things that could be what Walter had called the marvelous quotidian before explaining his fancy words, perhaps making a list might take the place of counting the sheep that would never be sheared nor help her nod off.

To begin with, there was Walter’s buttered toast.

The hiss the iron made as she flicked a drop of water on it to test its heat.

The first even row of knots she threw on her needles beginning another sock in the ugly drab worsted that was military standard.

The last swipe of the cloth when she was polishing the good silver.

The greedy sound the Doctor made as he ate his slice of pie, one she would have scolded the children for making.

Winding the clocks.

Rilla’s little frown as she tried to feed her war-baby and got mashed peas all over the front of her clean white shirtwaist, a dab on her cheek.

Slipping on galoshes when it was a rainy morning.

The crinkle of the pages as she read her Bible chapter before bed.

Beans, bobbing about in the pot.

Una Meredith asking for help with her darning, her blue eyes round as buttons as she said Please, Miss Baker, the only one of the Meredith children to use a title for her.

Throwing out slops when the bucket was full.

Spools of thread lined up in her sewing basket.

Spoons, nestled tight against each other in their drawer.

The milk folding around itself in her chipped teacup like the sheets on the line in the wind.

Shirley’s way of writing the letter S, the same in her name as his own.

Fat blueberries in a bowl, waiting to be made into jam.

She began each night with Walter’s toast. Most nights, she fell asleep between the bean pottage and the slops arcing out onto the dirt. When it had been several days since they’d heard from Shirley or the papers were black with battles and casualty lists, the milk in the tea took the shape of Shirley’s cursive S. When there were letters from all three Blythe boys and the Meredith ones as well, the knitting needles fell from her hands, stitches most certainly dropped.

The night they’d learned about Courcelette, she’d counted each one of the blueberries in the bowl and wept.

And slept.

With many thanks to @batrachised who posted this summary of fake fic with this same title: Susan and Walter have a conversation about the poetry of everyday things. Susan still can't quite understand that poetry nonsense, but after Walter waxes eloquent about her perfectly ensembled toast that has just the right amount of butter scraped on top, she decides that surely a little of it is harmless enough - walter is Mrs. Doctor Dear's son, after all.

I hope my "borrowing" did the initial post justice! @gogandmagog I would have shared this today anyway, but I did love your encouragement post.

[sporco-filth]

The second part of the story about Lee going from neat freak to slob.

Synopsis: A dramatic change in Lee's life gives him the freedom to be a slob and so Bob proceeds to be his guide to this new world

In the following month, Lee's office was a flurry of activity and the constant stress of work meant he was often too busy to do his usual errands and chores to the same level of astute perfection he had usually maintained. One night, after a long, tiring day at work, he returned home famished. He opened the fridge, the pantry, the cupboards, but all he could find was an apple, a few slices of wholemeal bread and a carrot: hardly anything to make a meal out of. He'd been so caught up at work he'd forgotten to buy more groceries. Looking at the clock, which by now read 10:12PM, he knew he couldn't muster the energy to go shopping and cook now. Either he ate his meagre scraps or…

Just because the house was devoid of his healthy fare didn't mean there wasn't any food around. Bob had his stocks of junk food and he always said Lee was welcome to have any of it if he wanted, not that Lee ever took Bob up on his offer. Lee looked around and stumbled on a frozen pizza. Normally he'd never look twice at something like that, but he was starving and his stomach gurgled in hunger. He heated it up and before long he was tucking into the cheesy, greasy, meaty mess. It was delicious, so much so that he found himself devouring the whole thing. He sat back in his chair, stifling a burp and pardoning himself, he patted his belly. It was ever so slightly distended. He imagined what it might be like if it was so much larger, a real gut, but he knew that although he enjoyed his fantasies, they were just fantasies.

Just then, Bob walked in. He had been out with his mates that evening and stumbled upon Lee rubbing his abdomen in front of an empty plate. "I can see you had a nice meal," he said with a smile and Lee quickly pulled his hand away from his stomach and started to tidy up. "I was just really busy in the office," Lee explained, flustered. "I didn't have time to buy any more groceries; I hope you don't mind if I helped myself to some of your things." "That's all right," Bob replied, not at all fussed. "I'm just glad to see you loosening up a bit. I hoped I'd have a positive influence on you." Lee smiled embarrassedly, face reddening slightly. "It's just this one time, I'll go buy more of my usual food tomorrow." "If you say so." Bob gave him a knowing look, as if he was sure this wouldn't be the last time, but didn't say any more and headed off to his room. Lee washed his plate and put it away. He wondered, what if he did let loose a bit? What would the harm be in that? But the rational part of his mind steered him away from that sort of thought and he prepared himself for bed as meticulously as ever, Bob's comments merely adding to his resolve to maintain his lifestyle in this den of excess and slothfulness.

In the days that followed, Lee returned to his fit, clean and healthy lifestyle with renewed ardour, cleaning and exercising almost twice as much as he usually did. He even went back to making his bed. But things at work were getting more and more stressful and he soon found himself worn out from all the internal and external pressures. "Mr Ngyuen, I'm sure you know that sleeping on the job is not acceptable!" "Wah?!" Lee was jolted awake from his exhaustion-induced daydreaming and saw his boss standing imperiously over him. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he said in a hasty apology. "I didn't mean to I just–" "You were just sleeping," his boss finished, shaking his head. "Listen, Mr Ngyuen, you know how tough business has been in the last few months, right?" Lee nodded slowly, concerned about where this might be heading. "I've heard talk," he said in a nervous voice, "of there being some cuts…" His boss nodded solemnly. "Don't tell the others, though. I don't want any panic. I'm warning you, Mr Ngyuen, because I'm afraid that if you don't manage to lift your game, you might be one of the ones to go." Lee was wide-eyed, he wasn't sure what to say. "B-but I've been working here for years! You can't just fire me! Where would I go? What would I do?" His boss gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid that lately you've become a liability to the company: your past success hasn't translated into future success. There'll be some sort of compensation, of course. We have plans in place for this sort of situation…" Lee stopped paying attention. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

He went home that night dejected and anxious. He sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, not sure what to do. Just then, Bob entered from his bedroom. He'd never seen Lee, a man who seemed to have everything perfectly in order and under control, in such a state: shirt rumpled, tie loose, hair messed up and bags under his eyes. "What's the matter?" Bob asked, genuinely worried. "You know how I told you there were rumours they were going to lay off some people at work? Well, my boss told me today that I'm… likely…" Lee didn't want to say it aloud. "To be fired?" Lee nodded. "Man, that's tough…" "Yeah," Lee sighed. "They said if I manage to improve my performance they might keep me, but I got the sense the decision was already made." He looked up at Bob. "I'm not sure what to do. There's no one hiring so if I lose this I'll be out of a job for who knows how long. I can't lose my job, I just can't…" Bob watched as he slumped over the table in despair. "Don't worry mate, I'll be happy to help you out as much as you need until you're back on your feet." Lee looked up. "How?" Bob smiled. "I might not look it, but I'm actually pretty well-off." "Really?" "Yeah." "But I never see you work or anything." "And how do you imagine I manage to live like that?" "But where did you get the money? And what's your definition of 'well-off', if you don't mind me asking." "I've accrued it over the years in a variety of ways: property, investments, crazy business schemes, even a bit I managed to score in gambling. I also inherited a fair bit from my relatives. I don't quite keep a close eye on my funds, but it's more than enough for me to enjoy my life as I please." Lee was rather shocked. "You really don't mind helping me out?" "It's nothing, Lee. We're friends now, you and I." Lee was relieved. It was as if all the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, smiling at last. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you." "It's nothing," Bob said with a shrug.

Lee tried his hardest at work but nonetheless he received the news he had dreaded. Even if he was prepared for it and had a back-up plan, he couldn't shake the sense of failure that it brought. He entered the apartment and dropped his work stuff in his room. Bob saw him on his way out. "It happened?" Lee was still numb from the shock and could only nod. "Here, sit with me in the lounge and relax, just forget about it." Lee was too rattled to think about his reasons against this and followed Bob to the living room. He sat down in the same armchair as he had during the 'challenge', not even bothering to dust away the detritus that was already on it. The empty wrappers and dropped crumbs crinkled and crunched under his weight. As he began to get into the show on TV, Bob handed him a beer. "Here, it might help take your mind off things." Lee accepted it. He largely abstained from alcohol and had never really gotten drunk before, so wasn't one to drink much, but he felt like now was an occasion that merited a stiff drink. One beer turned into two which was followed by a third and soon Lee found himself forgetting about all the uptight rules that dictated his life. Bob opened a packet of chips which he proffered to Lee and which he accepted. He hadn't eaten in a while and the salty, oily chips looked appetising. He grabbed a handful and munched away; they were delicious. So savoury and crunchy and moreish. Eventually he found his hand touching the bottom of the empty packet and dropped it onto the floor and wiped the grease off on his shirt, not caring about mess in his inebriated state. He took another swig of his beer and let out a sizeable burp. "I'm still kinda hungry," he said. "I'd better get something ready for dinner." "Relax," Bob said. "I'll order us a pizza. If you're worried about your diet stuff, it's only just this once." Lee ceded and went back to watching TV. Relax, he told himself. You can have some fun for once. He glanced down at himself and noticed he was still dressed for work; how could he get relaxed like this? He pulled off his tie and threw it away. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, dusting off the chip crumbs that had accumulated on it, and got rid of it. Finally, he unzipped his pants and kicked them off, leaving himself in only his underwear. He felt so liberated and unrestrained. Bob glanced over. "I see you're getting comfortable." Lee blushed slightly in embarrassment, forgetting he wasn't alone. "It's fine, do you think I mind? I spend most of my time in my underwear, after all." Lee nodded and eventually managed to relax again.

Soon the pizza arrived, the scent of it filling the air and making Lee's stomach growl. Bob had ordered two large pizzas and he tossed one to Lee. He opened it up; it looked like the biggest, unhealthiest, most overindulgent thing he could imagine. "I'm not sure I should, or can, eat all of this," Lee remarked. "Just eat as much as you want," Bob replied. "But from what I can see, you could do with a bit of meat on your bones." Lee looked at his taut stomach with its washboard abs. This was the culmination of years and years of hard work and dedication, but was it really all that worth it? Was it really all he wanted? He looked over to Bob, who was digging into his pizza, and at his belly. It was so round, so soft, so flabby and jiggly. Imagine having a gut like that. It'd be like having a comfy pillow all the time that you can wobble and play with. What are abs good for? Lee looked enviously at Bob's chubby love handles and bum, his soft moobs and thick thighs. He knew he wanted that.

Did he, though? Maybe it was just the beer making his mind foggy. He shook the thoughts from his head and started eating his pizza. He only managed half of it before he was full. Bob offered him another beer and the two watched TV late into the night.

The next morning, Lee woke up in the armchair. He was still only in his undies and surrounded by the remnants of the night before. The TV was still on and Bob was still sleeping away on the couch. He looked at the time on the clock and saw it was after seven. He needed to get to work! Wait… work… Lee remembered the events of yesterday, he was now unemployed. Still, he should get up for his daily run. He tried to get up quickly, but was hit by a wave of pain in his head. He looked down at the coffee table to see a fair amount of beer bottles and wondered how many of them were his. Noticing that there was a similar, albeit larger, pile beside Bob, he concluded they were, likely, all his. This must be what it feels like to get a hangover, he thought. He sighed and caught a whiff of his breath; it stank. He realised he didn't brush his teeth the night before, which meant he hadn't showered either. He took a quick sniff of his armpit and smelt the odour of sweat beginning to develop. I should freshen up, he thought. It'll help me clear my head. But then Lee felt a pang of hunger. He was never the type to do anything before having first eaten breakfast, but he was hardly in the right state of mind to prepare anything. He was out of muesli so would need to make something if he wanted a healthy, filling breakfast. Maybe eggs on toast, but that'd be a lot of messing around with the eggs. Smashed avo? No, they were out of avocado too… Out of the corner if his eye, Lee noticed the leftover pizza from the night before. It was cold, but in his hungover state it still looked pretty appetising, and most importantly it looked filling. Lee grabbed a slice and began munching away. Here I am, he thought. Unemployed, unwashed, hungover, in my undies, surrounded with trash, having woken up on the couch and eating cold pizza from last night for breakfast. Instead of being repulsed by the idea, he felt oddly turned on by it. He had no responsibilities, no one to impress. Perhaps Bob was right, maybe it wouldn't hurt to let himself go a bit. He felt an itch around his groin. Usually he'd be too polite to scratch down there, but in the spirit of his new lifestyle he let himself. It felt good. He grabbed another slice of pizza and picked up the remote, flicking idly through the channels. I think I could get used to this. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and got comfy. Really used to this.

A little while later, Bob stirred and woke up from his slumber to see Lee idly watching TV. "Shouldn't you be off on one of your jogs by now?" he asked, glancing at the clock. Lee gave a nervous smile, like a kid excited to dive into the deep end but unsure if it was safe. "I'm thinking I might… maybe, like, let myself go, a little…" Bob wasn't sure he heard that right. "As in, stop exercising and stuff?" Lee nodded. "I think it might be fun…" Bob didn't understand. "But you keep going on about being healthy and fit… I know I said I didn't get it and was hoping you'd come around, but I didn't think it would actually happen." Lee grinned. "Well, I think I've wanted it for a while, I think it's why I decided to move in here, but I couldn't find the courage to actually do it. Losing my job, I'm free now. I can do what I like and just, you know, relax a bit." Bob smiled. "Well then, in that case why don't I take you through the basics of being a slob?" Lee could hardly wait.

"Now," explained Bob, "there are five main food groups–" "Carbohydrates, fruit, dairy, protein and vegetables," Lee proudly recited. "No," said Bob. "At least, not for a slob. They are: fatty, sugary, salty, carbs and meat. Anything else is tasteless fodder and empty vitamins. Now, the rule of thumb is if you want it, eat it. If you really wanted to eat vegetables," he said the word with disgust, "you can, but I don't see why when there's so much other tastier food to eat." Lee nodded. "Next up is hygiene," Bob continued. "Only wash if absolutely necessary. Be proud of your stink. When it comes to cleaning the house, don't. Why bother if it just gets dirty again?" "OK, cool," the thought of being coated in grime and living in a tip titillated Lee. "What else should I know?" "The general rule for everything is if you feel like it, do it, and if you don't, don't. You wanna stay up all night playing video games? Go ahead! Want to eat nothing but doughnuts for a day? Who's stopping you? Can't be bothered exercising? Stay in bed all day." Lee imagined this. A life of utter laziness where he let his desires take control. "This sounds amazing," he breathed in awe. "It's a sweet life," Bob agreed.

That afternoon, while Bob had gone out for a bit, Lee was laid out on the couch in his undies playing video games when his stomach growled. He paused the game and got up to see what was available. Looking through the junk food filled kitchen, he had trouble deciding what to eat; it all looked so tasty. Then he noticed a chocolate cake sitting on the counter. Out of habit, he looked at the clock: five fifteen, too close to dinner for snacking. Then Lee remembered Bob's advice and went with his gut. He plonked himself back down on the couch and began to stuff his face with the rich, sweet cake. He didn't even bother with cutlery, just scooping handful after handful into his mouth. He moaned in delight; it was so delicious. How had he forbidden himself from this for so long? Even when he started to feel full, Lee pressed on, his stomach wanting more and more. Eventually he finished it all. He rubbed his sore stomach which was by now pretty bloated, the chocolate on his fingers smearing over his body. He let out a burp and sighed with contentment. He thought about going back to his game, but the stuffing had made him sleepy so he took a nap instead. He woke up to the sound of the door and was the scent of food which made his stomach start burbling again. Bob had arrived and with him he had brought dinner. "Hey Lee," he called out. "You hungry? I got McDonald's." He went over to the couch to find Lee sleepy-eyed and chocolate-coated. Lee smiled bashfully, looking down at his messy state. "I had a cake a little while ago," he yawned. Bob was a bit befuddled. "The cake on the counter?" "Yeah." "The whole thing?" "Yeah, sorry… I was kinda hungry…" Bob grinned. "Don't apologise, I just didn't think you had it in you. I'm impressed, good job." Lee smiled back. "Thanks." "If you ate so much before, I'm not sure you have room for more." Lee got up quickly. "I can eat," he said, not wanting to miss out. Bob chuckled at his enthusiasm and tossed him his bag of food. Lee looked inside and pulled out his burger. "You know," he said, looking at it. "I don't think I've ever had McDonald's before." "Really?" "Maybe the chips or something, but not a burger." "Well, you've been missing out." Bob took a bite out of his. "They're great," he said, mouth full. "Try it!" Lee took a bite, the greasy meat filling his mouth and sending his taste buds into a frenzy. He ate with vigour and soon he was sitting back, belly full and sipping his soft drink. "I've never really drunk soft drink either," he said, enjoying the sugary rush and the sensation of bubbles on his tongue." "I don't know how you've lived all these years like this…" Bob replied in awe tinged with disbelief. "Neither do I," Lee said. He felt the bubbles rise up from his stomach and opened his mouth wide. A large belch escaped his lips. "Wow, I think that's the biggest burp I've ever done." He was rather chuffed with himself when Bob let loose an even larger one. Lee was impressed, if a bit put to shame. "Belching is an art form," Bob explained. "It takes practice. You need to know how to properly shape the mouth to really amplify it." "Can you teach me?" Bob shook his head. "That's like going to Pavorroti and saying 'teach me to sing like you'. I'm afraid I can't help you, Lee, this is something you need to learn on your own. Master it, perfect it, and one day you might be as good as me." Lee nodded to this sage advice, still sucking on his straw. "I'll do my best."

[sabrgirl]

do you have any tips to help against the tiredness and fatigue during the late afternoon stage of the day ukhti??

☪️🙏

things that help me:

nap after asr for a short while if you can

try and identify the exact time you feel like you're crashing/fatigued. keep a diary every day and note down the time you're starting to feel tired and Insha'Allah you'll find a pattern. for me, i've noticed it's after zuhr time around 2-3pm. in these hours, try and just limit the things you're doing and try and relax as much as you can. if you're at home, try and do less within that time. sometimes if i'm at uni, i try and take a break from my uni work and do something else in that time. you may not always be able to adjust but try your best not to do as much as you usually do

the food you eat is also really important. obviously it's ramadan right now, so this doesn't apply at the moment, but for general advice after ramadan: when you know that your body is about to be fatigued, it's important to eat food that gives you energy before that. you need to be eating leafy green vegetables, fruits, and things like fish (salmon, tuna etc - have a tuna sandwich for eg), chicken, whole grain foods (brown bread, brown rice) and snacks like nuts, and seeds. these foods give you energy

breakfast is also important and it's important to eat protein because it will fuel you in your day. protein is basically your best friend when it comes to fatigue. eggs and oats are really good

throughout ramadan, try and eat these protein foods at suhoor

take vitamin supplements. vitamin b12 and iron help with fatigue. search for 'vitamins for fatigue' and you can find some and take those in the day. but be careful bc certain vitamins aren't good for everyone if you have certain health conditions, if you're taking other medicines, pregnancy etc. so be sure to research before you buy anything and eat it

i find that doing exercise, especially yoga and pilates, helps me immensely with my fatigue. i type in 'yoga for energy' on youtube and there are such nice and helpful videos with exercises that really do work for me and get my energy up. movewithnicole is my favourite yoga youtuber for energy and her yoga also isn't associated with shirk like some other kinds of yoga that draw from hindu practises. try doing these in the afternoon if you can, when you're feeling fatigued and if you're not outside. it'll take a lot of motivation in the moment but just try and see if it helps. otherwise, do it in the morning

get rid of caffeine and sugar if you take that. it'll just give you a crash later on when the energising effects wear off and will leave you feeling worse. sugar can also include white bread and white rice so try and switch to wholemeal and see if that helps you as well. wholegrain food will make your blood sugar rise and fall slower so you won't feel as tired.

i pray these help, may Allah make it easy for you, Ameen ♡

[not-available-for-comment]

Right so I’m unreasonably proud of myself. I was experimenting with making buckwheat almond bread and somewhat accidentally produced a very delicious gluten free wholemeal soda bread. I was toying with this as a way of developing a somewhat diabetic friendly bread but honestly this is good eating regardless.

Note that I was using stone ground buckwheat, if yours is more refined you may need to tweak the liquid a bit.

Buckwheat Almond Soda Bread

2.5 cups buckwheat

0.5 cups almond flour

1 ts baking soda

1 ts baking powder

1/2 Tb salt

1.25 cups whole milk buttermilk

0.5 cups water

2 Tb sunflower seeds to top (optional)

Sift together dry ingredients and whisk to combine if necessary. Stir in water and buttermilk. The batter should be thick but slightly loose. Scrape into a buttered 9x5 loaf pan. Top with sunflower seeds if using. Bake ~35-40 minutes at 375F. Let sit 10 minutes in pan before turning out to cool on a wire rack. Let cool completely before slicing.

Delicious with butter, jam, cheese, cold cuts and pickles, fried egg…

[monstersandmaw]

Hiii unrelated question but I seen you made a cake and was very curious if you made homemade bread? I've been wanting to try to make some and was looking for some good recipes if you have one?

Hi! I do make bread - made some the other day as it happens!

My standard recipe is this (sorry for metric measurements!!)

Ingredients:

500g bread flour (the one linked above is half wholemeal and half strong white flour, but any bread flour should work for this)

1 sachet of instant yeast

1 tsp salt

3 table spoons olive oil

about 300ml warm water (depends on how dry/wet mix is)

Method:

Combine dry ingredients in a bowl, keeping the salt and the yeast on separate sides (so you don’t kill the yeast with the salt)

Add olive oil

Slowly pour in the water and mix until it’s all combined smoothly but not sticky. If it doesn’t come together, add a splash more water, if it’s too sticky, add more flour

Knead for at least 5mins on a lightly floured surface until it’s smooth and kind of stretchy (you should knead longer but I’m lazy and this works fine for me)

Leave in a lightly oiled bowl (so it doesn’t stick as it rises), covered with a tea towel or something, in a warm place for about an hour until it’s doubled in size.

After that, gently knock the air out of it (press it back down into the bowl with a fist), knead it a little bit again and shape it into a loaf shape on a sheet of baking paper (so it doesn’t stick to the tray)

Put it on a tray to prove again for another 30mins - 1hr (depending on how warm the environment is) and then heat the oven to 200°C

After it’s risen decently again, put it in the oven for about 30mins (may need more) until it’s golden brown and sounds hollow when you tap the base.

Place on a wire rack to cool off a bit before you tuck in

Hope that makes sense and that I wrote it down right :)!! It’s the way my mum taught me.

[blackcofffeekiller]

Right guys, I spent almost £30 on a food shop for the next 2 weeks and here's what I got:

- turkey sausages 8x2

- breaded chicken breast 4x2

- snack bars (2 different boxes of flavours, 6 in a pack)

- a tub of gum

-bread rolls (for tonight)

- Linda McCartney mozzarella burgers 2x2 (for tonight - for the family and I).

I aimed to get high protein so I would snack less. The plan is to have turkey sausages for lunch with a snack bar and a drink and the breaded chicken breast for dinner with either wholemeal pasta or white rice.

[peaceandplanet]

Fourth times the charm. Making sourdough might be easy for most but trying to make this with disabilities means adapting to a different way of doing things.

I simply can’t knead bread anymore, it’s beyond my dexterity now as my joints continue to be affected by this condition (EDS for the curious). All the recipe I had been trying to do were for stretch and fold, then shaping. I tried to adapt to them but simply wasn’t finding success.

That was until I found a standmixer recipe. The first one I tried was half stand mixer half traditional. So I figured I’d merge the first and second parts into one stand mixer recipe. By this point I was on my third loaf, suffice to say third time was not the charm. It was another pancake.

Then finally I found a loaf made entirely with the stand mixer with minimal shaping before bulk fermentation. The shaping was also done with a tool.

I followed this new method and it worked the first time. I wish I’d found this method sooner!

My recipe was 350g of room temperature filtered water, 100g of rye sourdough starter (fed the night before), 525g of wholemeal bread flour (Dove’s Farm) and 10g of Himalayan salt.

I used a standard paddle for the initial mix then the dough hook for gluten development (what would normally be the stretch and fold part of the process). In the end I had it on for 15/20 minutes. I then proofed it in a proofing basket (Brod and Taylor) for about four and a half hours then transplanted it to a banneton basket to bulk ferment overnight in the fridge.

In the morning I warmed up the oven for 30 minutes on 230°C before adding the loaf to a bread oven. I scored the loaf beforehand and cooked the first half for 25 minutes before removing the lid and cooking for a further 20 minutes. The picture you see is what it looked like after the second half of cooking was complete. Perfect blistering and nice ear.

What I would different is proof it less. It was nearly triple the size when I took it out before bulk fermentation and I think that over proofed it. So I will tweak it a little the next time I do this.

The best part is I didn’t need to do too much. Most of the work is actually the maintenance of the starter. The bread making part with the stand mixer was the easiest in the end, once I got that part right and stopped trying to do a loaf like able bodied people do.

My goal is to make a 100% spelt loaf with a spelt starter. I will wait until I’m a little more seasoned before attempting that though.

Very happy with how this loaf turned out.

As an aside I used rice flour to prevent the loaf from sticking to the bread basket. This worked a charm. I have learnt so much through this process (plus hours of watching YouTube videos) and built my confidence up. It also helps me feel a little bit more independent which is so valuable when you have disabilities.

[nitewrighter]

Since the new John Wick movie is coming out could we have a continuation of the Gency Assassin AU? *Slides a homemade loaf of wholemeal bread over as an offering*

...And there were TWO BEDS.

Previous Chapters: 1, 2

---

It wasn't clear how old the Hanamura Continental was, exactly. The exterior architecture certainly took notes from the Meiji Era, but the interior seemed to be a carefully constructed time warp through several different centuries. The front entrance had all the grace and theatrics and classically familiar elements of entering a grand Edo period fantasy, though now vaunted to spectacle with higher ceilings and a near cathedral-like path to the main desk, the desk itself had those same Meiji sensibilities as the exterior of the hotel, with the concierge backlit by a glowing yellow screen. Beyond that the lounge hurled itself into the 20th century excess, and beyond that, Genji knew, there was a courtyard that cultivated many of the traditional Japanese gardening techniques and turned them into a twisting labyrinth of geometric futurism, which spiraled off into three buildings that made up the continental's main bodies of suites.

Despite all the grandeur, or perhaps because of all the grandeur, Genji felt more than a bit embarrassed at bringing Mercy through its doors. Here she was working in that cramped little office in a grim heap of brick of a building, thanklessly patching up assassins and enforcers and killers who all languished in the luxurious leather chairs of these hotels. She showed no reaction to the rich dark wood, to the scent of Yamazaki whisky on the air, save for the same hard mask she had assumed since arriving in Hanamura. She had barely slept on the flight, her head lolling forward, or onto his shoulder for a few minutes at a time before rousing herself with a short sharp intake of breath. She was used to blood—she was born into this life, same as him, even if she served it from the margins---but excommunicado was another thing entirely. She clearly resented the fact that she was only being used as a tool, the same as all those damnable gold coins, to pull him back into whatever politick the High Table was pulling, and he probably would have been more insulted on her behalf as well if he wasn't currently dreading the eyes of every hotel guest on them as they walked through the lobby.

They both approached the concierge's desk and a woman with her black hair in a tight bun glanced up at Genji from behind delicate gold-wireframe glasses. Her eyes flicked up at him, first with a familiar, yet diplomatic warmth, then they sharply flicked to Mercy, then darted right back to him with a clear 'Are you sure this is wise' skepticism that, given her stoicism, read very clearly as 'This is the dumbest thing you could possibly do and when your actions get us all killed please know that I will haunt you in this life and the next.'

"Welcome to the Hanamura Continental, Mr. Shimada," she said, splaying her hands gracefully on the desk in front of her.

"It's good to see you again, Asa, you look well," said Genji.

Her jaw only tightened as her lips pressed together in a not-really smile. "I'm afraid your... companion does not have the same membership plan with us as you do," she said.

"But at the very least, no business can be conducted on hotel grounds, is that true?" Genji asked.

"You are correct," said Asa.

"Well, seeing as that's settled, I would like to speak to management," said Genji.

Her gaze seemed to sharpen even more, but her mouth quirked slightly at the audacity of the request.

"I see," said Asa, "It has been quite some time, hasn't it?"

"And if you don't have family, what do you have?" Genji threw the words out in what was a clear attempt to diffuse the situation but he may as well have thrown them at a wall.

"I'll see if he's available," she said, picking up the phone at the desk.

She turned her shoulder to him, covered her mouth in a gesture that seemed demure but was clearly meant to keep him from reading her lips, and spoke inaudibly into the phone. Genji wasn't even sure if she was speaking loudly enough for the sound to even go through.

Mercy touched his arm and he started slightly. She gave a glance over her shoulder at a woman and two men in suits at a small coffee table across the lobby. The woman was slouched on a couch, whisky gripped at the rim of the glass, clawlike in perfect red manicured nails that matched perfect red lipstick. Her white hair stood out starkly in the low warm lights of the hotel. Genji had more or less shrugged off how much everyone was staring at him since he didn't want Asa to smell the fear on him, but he picked up immediately on what Mercy was indicating--those suits indicated higher rollers. Her bounty was going up, enough to attract the attention of those who held out for bigger challenges and bigger prizes.

"If you'll follow me, sir," Asa spoke up and Genji glanced back at her immediately. She moved out from behind the desk.

"She comes too," said Genji, indicating Mercy with a hand.

Asa gave him a side-eye that seemed capable of reducing a man to nothing but a smoldering pile of cinders, but he met her gaze with a completely straight face, not stony or emotionless, but level, unrelenting. It frightened Mercy, not knowing what he was capable of, because she certainly knew that, but being reminded of just how vulnerable he permitted himself to be with her.

"...fine," Asa said crisply, before turning her shoulder and beginning to walk.

They crossed through the lounge, Mercy keeping her eyes straight forward and ignoring the sensation of being in a forest at night where you can feel eyes peering out at you from all the dark between trees. They walked out into the cold night air of the courtyard, then took a path that wound into the largest of the three builidngs. From here, they entered an elevator, and Asa drew a keycard from an interior pocket of her jacket and entered it into a card slot below the elevator buttons. The elevator doors closed and the elevator rose, steadily.

Asa gave a glance over her shoulder to Mercy.

"...I don't doubt your being declared excommunicado was unjust," she said, turning away from Mercy, "But you understand, we have our own people to protect. Our own standards to uphold."

"I understand," Mercy said.

"How far are you willing to take this?" Asa kept her eyes fixed on the elevator doors.

Genji opened his mouth.

"Not you," said Asa, "Her. How far is she willing to take this?"

"As far as it takes to get him free again," Mercy said.

To her credit, Asa didn't turn around for another one of her withering looks, but her shoulders visibly stiffened. "You're taking the long way, then," she said, as the elevator doors opened. She gestured through the doors and they exited out, back out into the cool night air, into a rooftop garden.

A man with his graying hair tied half-back and a neatly trimmed beard sat languidly in a low-backed chair. He regarded them not with the contempt Asa had, but rather a steady exhaustion. Asa took her place just behind him at his right hand, her hands clasped together in front of herself primly.

"Brother," said Hanzo.

"We'd like to thank you for your hospitality," Genji bowed and Mercy quickly followed the gesture.

"You realize by bringing her here, you could render the hotel, and by extension, everything our father built, condemned," Hanzo said, not even looking at Mercy.

Everything that the High Table didn't take from him already, Genji thought, but held his tongue. "I am aware. Which is why I humbly request your support in opening a dialogue with the High Table on Angela's behalf."

Asa couldn't resist a short at this, but Hanzo remained unfazed.

"You got out," he said, his eyes not breaking from Genji's.

"I did," said Genji.

"And did it occur to you that this is precisely the course of action to make you play right into their hands? To not only bring you back into this life, but make you completely beholden to them because of the threat of consequences of your current actions?"

"That's what I said," Mercy huffed and Hanzo finally glanced toward her.

"And am I to believe you have done nothing to warrant the High Table's attention?"

Mercy's lips thinned as she stared Hanzo down.

"I'm a doctor," her voice was steady, "I'm beholden to more than just a bunch of Marquises throwing gold coins around."

Genji perked up at this and his head swung over at Angela.

"...so you have been flouting their authority," Hanzo's eyes narrowed.

"I wouldn't call saving lives flouting authority."

"It is when our business is lives. Our currency is lives."

Mercy leaned forward, putting both her hands on the table between them. "Respectfully speaking, manager, I operated with as much discretion and flexibility as anyone in our business operates with. We both know that this isn't about me, so I hardly see the point in needling me about whose arterial bleeding I stitched up in the minutes before a contract went into effect, or whoever the Bratva put on my operating table and told me not to ask questions."

Hanzo's jaw visibly tightened and he looked past her to look at Genji. Genji's posture had visibly tensed to rail-stiffness behind her, eyes wide and face pale, before that short look from Hanzo prompted him to furrow his brow and fold his arms in an attempt to assume a more confident position in support of Mercy. He looked back at Mercy. She drew herself upright from the table, but a cold steadiness in her gaze told him that this was a matter of dignity and how much the High Table could take from a person just as much as it was a matter of life and death.

"Genji," he said, his eyes not focused on either of them, "Pursuing this not only means undoing all of your efforts to leave this life, it could mean losing everything. Things aren't fair here. Things have never been fair here. People like her die all the time as the High Table moves its pieces around. Knowing that, are you still willing to go forward?"

Genji looked at Mercy then. She didn't meet his eyes at first, but he stared long enough for her to finally turn her head to him. There was no pleading in her gaze, but there was a pinching at her mouth--regret for him? Regret at being the one thing that could drag him back into all this?

"I am," he replied.

Hanzo exhaled a long breath. "I'll be making a call, then. I suggest you both get some rest, while you can."

"Is my penthouse here still--?" Genji started.

"Don't push me," said Hanzo.

-----

"...they reopened," Genji said awkwardly, a towel around his waist. Blood ran pink with the shower water on his skin. It was one of the smaller wounds at his ribs. Mercy glanced up from a slip of paper, wet hair hanging limply around her face. The paper lamp beside her cast her in a yellow-ivory light. She was in a dark blue yukata herself--the hotel room came stocked with two. The standard hotel room. With two beds.

"Ach--" Mercy stood up and stepped over, bending to look at it, "Only you can fight your way through a subway with those stitches only for them to finally give up un a shower."

"What can I say? I'm lucky."

"Still, it's a lot better than before," she murmured, "I'll pull out the broken stitches, from there, just some gauze and tape should work."

She dug through her bag and Genji sat on the edge of the bed.

"The room service prices here are obscene, by the way," said Mercy, as Genji picked up the slip of paper she had been looking at. A menu.

"I'd say the yuzu crab is worth it. Besides, It's not like most of the guests here really pay for the services, anyway."

"...they pay for room service with lives?" Mercy glanced up from her bag.

Genji felt his ears burning. "No, just.. there are perks with seniority."

Which is bought with lives, he thought, but just awkwardly sat there, watching the pink down his side now slowly stain into his towel.

"Plus, there's a continental breakfast," he added with a dumb grin.

Mercy glanced up from her bag to give him an exhausted look.

"Too soon. Right." Genji clasped his hands together in his lap.

The bed squeaked slightly as she sat down next to him, pliers in hand and gauze and tape in the other. "Arm," she said, and he lifted his arm and drew in a sharp breath on the side with the reopened wound.

"...he shouldn't have talked about you like that," said Genji.

"I've learned to be careful about which things I take personally," said Mercy.

"I think you managed to scare him a little--ah!" Genji gritted his teeth as she pulled out a broken stitch.

"How much did he help you in getting out?" asked Mercy.

"Actually not that much. His being the manager of the Continental is more of a product of the High Table eating our family's empire than anything."

"Oh, there's an empire now," Mercy's eyebrows raised.

"There was an empire--ow!" Genji winced again as she pulled out another broken stitch, "But things caught up with us. Triad. Bratva. You know how it is."

"I do," said Mercy.

A pause passed between them, only punctuated by a short grunt from Genji as she pulled out the last broken stitch.

"Are you hungry?" Genji asked, glancing at the menu, as she was laying gauze over the wound.

"Not really. I probably should be, at this point, but..." she shrugged as she taped it down.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, each trying to gauge a lonely yet utterly blank and exhausted face.

"We make it out of this alive, I'm getting you the yuzu crab here," said Genji.

"We make it out of this alive, we'll find yuzu crab somewhere else," said Mercy.

Genji blinked and then smiled. "Right..."

She cleared her throat. "We should get some rest," she said, then stood up to go to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Yes--" said Genji, before adding, "Thank you, for the--" he gestured at the gauze.

"It's probably bad that I don't even think about it anymore, huh?" said Mercy, with a slight smile.

"Probably," admitted Genji.

---

The room was dark.

Genji had his sheets pulled up to his chin.

He watched the shape of Mercy under the blankets of the other bed, steadily rising and falling with her breath. Her back was to him, her head just a faintly moonlit burst of silvery blonde. The arm's length gap between the beds seemed an unfathomable chasm. He hadn't even brought up the subject, and why would he? Two beds basically eliminated discussion altogether. They had slept together before, certainly, and it occurred to Genji that he had never really kept track of how many times they had done that. It was remarkable the sort of things this life trained you to keep track of and not keep track of. Genji had no idea how many he had killed for the High Table, but he could tell how many times he had fired a gun and how many shots he had left at any given time, regardless of the adrenaline rushing through his system. He felt a bit foolish dwelling on the thought--they had enough to worry about--Hanzo opening a dialogue with the High Table wasn't going to solve their problems, in all likelihood they were playing right into the High Table's hands, the fact that they had broken so many rules just to survive all this and come here would likely shackle them to this life forever and--and--

Genji stared at the ceiling. Exhaustion should be overtaking him. He knew this, his body knew this. Maybe it was the tension of being in Hanamura itself, the tension of being utterly dependent on Hanzo in this moment. He heard a creak and glanced up sharply to see Mercy sitting up in her own bed, sliding across the mattress, sitting on the edge, bare legs in the moonlight. He said nothing, but propped himself up on his elbows, staring at her. His bed creaked as Mercy slid under his comforter silently, nestling herself in the crook of his arm.

"I'm scared," was all she said, her own arm slowly snaking across his chest, careful of his injuries.

"Me too," he said quietly, adjusting his arm around her and leaning his cheek on her forehead.

But all the same he was able to close his eyes, now.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Hi. I took some peanut butter and mixed it with maca powder and a teeny bit of honey, and then I slapped it on some wholemeal bread and put a banana on it. I’m trying to feel normal today, but I’m definitely not normal.

PS. I think there’s been a little confusion about why I post these and how it’s acceptable to respond. Unless you’re asking for a recipe or something, I really don’t want to know whether or not you would like to eat my food. Do you hate something I’m eating? Bummer for you, but why are you telling me that? Me, someone who is already openly uncomfortable with food and judges themself very hard for food choices?

I post these as a safe place to keep myself accountable, to eat at least 2 1/2 meals a day. I chose to do it on tumblr because my corner of the internet feels more like a community than any other social media site I’m on. It has the right combination of support and anonymity, and I’ve never felt judged for this before, until recently. I don’t think any of these comments have been made maliciously, and it’s okay, but they still do the opposite of encourage me.

This is a log meant to help me track the consistency and balance of the food I eat, as someone who struggles with a restrictive eating disorder. That’s the point. Thanks for understanding.

[ansicred]

James + Cooking

While he has many talents that match up with his career, James' secret (ie: the only talent he has to be at home in order to show it off) talent is cooking & baking -- and, boy, is he good at it.

Out of him and Frank, James is the cook in the house. That was determined quite quickly after Frank was presented with James' specialty one Sunday lunchtime (after many, many moons of getting sick of going to the local pub's carvery for Sunday Dinner), and it stuck right up until the day of Frank's death.

With his father being an army man, and therefore away for a good portion of his childhood, the only interaction James really had with adults was either at school or with his mother. As well as being a renowned cook, his mother was also very clear with all of her children that they must learn the basics of being a single human being from a young age. James, of course, was absolutely no exception to the rule but he was the only one of his brothers to have actually enjoyed the lessons he was given by his mother. He and his sister, Stella, would often help their mother with household chores, errands, and, of course, the meals.

Every recipe he knows came down his maternal line and he knows how to shop for food on a tight, tight budget if he needs to thanks to his mother's lessons. He's particularly skilled at making homemade stews (his favourite of his mother's recipes being rabbit/hare stew), roast dinners, and (meat/savoury) pies, but that doesn't mean he's lacking in the baking department... Oh no, James is just as good at baking bread and sweet, spongy cakes as he is at "boshing out" a lovely Sunday Roast.

He generally finds the practice calming and enjoys the way that food brings people together but he's only ever happy with his meals when Frank is reduced to pleased humming because of something he's cooked for him -- especially closer to 2023.

When he's not touring, and he's not buggered off out somewhere, James is usually found in the kitchen, busy making something for someone. He likes to enter community competitions under a pseudonym and usually gifts the prize money to the second prize winner because by the time he'd become a member of Odd Foxes he's not really needed it. He also makes stews and soups for his local homeless shelter, feeling that he needs to give back somehow after his own struggles with poverty in his early teens, and in 2023 he still does that out of principle and the urge to help someone, even if it is just giving them a hot meal and access to the help they need the most.

Specialty Dishes: Sunday Roast, Rabbit/Hare Stew, and Shepherd's Pie. Specialty Desserts: Apple Crumble, (Homemade) Rice Pudding, and (Homemade) Semolina Pudding. Specialty Baked Goods: Wholemeal Bread, Coffee Cake, Carrot Cake (Frank's Favourite!!), and Blackberry Pie.

[omsdoortodoor]

OMS Door to Door Challenge – departure date minus 4 weeks

Food Food Glorious Food

I’ve been worrying about nutrition this week.  Before I met Ian, he cycled from London to Holcombe Rogus (which certain other individuals from the village) in one day.  Up at 4am, they stopped at Basingstoke for a full breakfast, pub lunch and then celebrated their finish with some champers.  Ian is 12 years older now and pub lunches, full breakfasts and champers at the end of each day just won’t cut it.  I can see him heaving himself onto the bike by day 10.

So this week, in addition ot sorting out the first aid kit, giving some thought to theming the blog for the challenge and planning the start and finish, Ian and I sat down and had a long talk about NUTRITION.

He’s done his research by looking at British Cycling which has a very useful nutrition section for professional cyclists.  Here I have tried to summarise what he told me.

Breakfast should ideally be eaten 90 – 120 minutes before he starts to cycle.  But we could go with 60 minutes before, if he is planning to cycle at an easy pace.  It should be a carbohydrate focussed meal, with things like porridge, oats or muesli.

During the ride, he needs to take:

2 gels

2 energy bars

3 mini pitta bread with nut butter or 2 brioche & jam.

So it seems to be to be topping up on carbs and fats, so he could also stop at a café instead of the snacks.

Liquids

He also needs to drink 2-3 litires of water per day.  And talking of water, if he waits until he is thirsty to drink, it is too late.  He needs to be thinking ahead for 20 miles down the road, so little and often right from the start is the way.  Something like 2-3 gulps every 15 minutes. I wonder whether he needs a reminder on this bike computer if that is possible.

He should also drink 500ml of electrolyte drink during the ride to replace minerals etc.  But at that quantity he will need some electrolyte tablets instead.

Lunchtime

On Ian’s longer rides, we hope to meet somewhere for lunch, whether that is eating in a café or just eating our sandwiches together with the motorhome parked up somewhere.  Lunch for Ian is ideally a wholemeal sandwich with some protein like tuna.

Half-time

At the halfway mark no orange segments, like at school. On days when he is cycling for five hours or more he will need to have an extra 20g of protein, which will be in the form of a bar.

Arrival / tea-time

When Ian finishes his usual cycle rides he likes salted nuts and a beer.  I thought the salted nuts were important to replace lost salts, but apparently it’s just because he likes salted nuts! And beer!  So the recommendation is UNSALTED nuts and seeds and or a banana.  Ian is insisting on keeping the cold beer in.

Dinner

The website says “don’t use the ride as an excuse for a full on blow out”.  Otherwise, he might have one of those on his tyres the following day.  Instead go for something nutritious like oily fish, broccoli and spiced potatoes or pasta.

Foods that are slow-release proteins such as hemp protein, houmous, nut butters and cottage cheese (not sure I can get that in France, although you can buy all things yoghurt). And finally, foods that are known for reducing inflammation are good, such as turmeric, ginger and garlic as are foods high in flavonoids such as berries.

And that’s it.

Have you spotted the big problem?

There is no recommendation of red wine, tasty French cheese, baguette or croissants let along duck.

What do you think Ian will do?

You will have to wait and see.

Thank you for reading our blog. These will be more of Ian's practice rides next time.

Jane & Ian

[purcho]

Stocking Your Pantry: Essential Supplies for Every UK Household

Having a well-stocked pantry is more than just a convenience; it’s a cornerstone of efficient and stress-free cooking. Whether you’re preparing a quick weekday meal or hosting a dinner party, having the right supplies at your fingertips can make all the difference. For households across the UK, here’s a guide to the essential Pantry supplies uk you should consider keeping on hand.

1. Grains and Pasta

A variety of grains and pasta can form the backbone of many meals. Keep staples like:

Rice: Basmati, jasmine, and arborio for different dishes.

Pasta: Spaghetti, penne, and fusilli for quick and versatile meals.

Quinoa and Couscous: These are great for salads and as side dishes.

2. Canned and Jarred Goods

Canned goods are lifesavers for quick and nutritious meals. Stock up on:

Beans: Chickpeas, kidney beans, and black beans for stews, salads, and soups.

Tomatoes: Chopped and whole for sauces and bases.

Fish: Tuna and sardines for sandwiches and salads.

Vegetables: Sweetcorn, peas, and mixed vegetables for quick additions to meals.

3. Baking Essentials

Even if you don’t bake often, having these basics can help you whip up a variety of baked goods and desserts:

Flour: All-purpose, self-raising, and wholemeal.

Sugar: Granulated, brown, and caster sugar.

Baking Powder and Soda: Essential for leavening.

Yeast: For homemade bread and doughs.

Cocoa Powder: For baking and hot chocolate.

4. Oils and Vinegars

A selection of oils and vinegars is essential for cooking and dressing salads:

Olive Oil: Both extra virgin for dressings and standard for cooking.

Vegetable Oil: For frying and general cooking.

Vinegars: Balsamic, apple cider, and white wine vinegar for a range of uses.

5. Herbs and Spices

A well-chosen array of herbs and spices can elevate any dish:

Dried Herbs: Basil, oregano, thyme, rosemary, and bay leaves.

Spices: Cumin, paprika, turmeric, coriander, and cinnamon.

Salt and Pepper: Basic, but essential.

6. Condiments and Sauces

Condiments add flavor and variety to meals:

Soy Sauce and Fish Sauce: For Asian-inspired dishes.

Ketchup and Mustard: Classic condiments for sandwiches and burgers.

Hot Sauce and Worcestershire Sauce: For adding a kick and depth of flavor.

Honey and Maple Syrup: For sweetening and cooking.

7. Dried Fruits and Nuts

These are great for snacking and adding to meals:

Nuts: Almonds, walnuts, and cashews.

Dried Fruits: Raisins, apricots, and cranberries.

8. Miscellaneous Essentials

A few other items can round out your pantry:

Broth or Stock Cubes: For soups, stews, and sauces.

Tea and Coffee: To keep you fueled throughout the day.

Cereal and Oats: For quick breakfasts and baking.

Conclusion

Stocking your Pantry supplies uk with these essentials ensures that you’re always prepared to create a wide range of meals without the need for frequent shopping trips. Whether you’re a seasoned cook or just starting out, having these supplies on hand will help you navigate your kitchen with confidence and creativity. Happy cooking!

[jjsanguine]

Foodie sanguine: enriched oat bread

A while back I was short on flour but had a craving for bread so I crumbled up some homemade oat cookies and added them to the flour. They were delicious but i didn't write down any measurements so here's an actually reproducible version that doesn't require you to put cookies in your spice grinder.

I assume you could bake this in an oven but I get better results when I steam bread. The bread isn't like a doughnut, more subtly sweet like a brioche.

Ingredients for 6 rolls

100g ≈3½ oz oats or oat flour

200g ≈7 oz Wholemeal flour

50g ≈1¾ oz cup plain flour, plus extra for kneading

7g 1½ teaspoons yeast

20g 4 teaspoons brown sugar or maple syrup

Pinch of salt

Pinch or two of baking spice mix (cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ginger)

200g 7oz milk or water

25g 1½ tablespoons Butter

½ teaspoon Vanilla extract

Miscellaneous amount of water for steamer

Method

Add dry ingredients (oats, wholemeal flour, plain flour, yeast, salt and spices) to a mixing bowl and mix thoroughly.

Add wet ingredients (milk, butter, vanilla, maple syrup/sugar) to the mixing bowl and mix everything together. (1)

Cover the mixing bowl for like 45 minutes or however long it takes for the dough to double in size.

Put around 40g 1⅓ oz of flour on a chopping board or plate. Just in a pile, don't flour the surface.

Scoop roughly a 6th of the dough and roll it in the flour so you can handle the dough without it being too sticky. Repeat with the rest of the dough so you have 6 roughly equal balls of dough covered in flour.

Put room temperature water in your steamer. (2)

Flatten one ball of dough and fold it in half. Fold the ball of dough in half 5ish more times, and then roll it back into a ball.

You could either flatten the ball slightly with your hand or poke a hole in the center and form it into a bagel, but after shaping place this roll into the steamer. Don't worry if the rolls aren't that smooth.

Repeat steps 7 and 8 with the rest of the dough balls. (3)

Switch on your steamer to a medium low heat (4) and cook the rolls for around 15-20 minutes—you'll know they're done when the bread springs back slowly when you press it.

You could eat the bread right away but if you want a more prominent crust you can bake the rolls in an oven or air fryer for 10-15 minutes on high heat before eating. (5)

Notes:

I used the dough hooks on my hand mixer, but this dough is very wet so don't worry about kneading with your hands. You could just mix with a wooden spoon till all the flour is incorporated.

If you don't have a steamer then a large pot with a upside down pie tin in it would be effective. Remember to put baking paper on top of the pie tin.

It's best to cook all of the dough as soon as possible because overproofed dough won't rise as well, but you can keep raw dough in the fridge for a day or two.

This is so that the water doesn't boil away too quickly. The water heating up slowly will proof the dough, so you don't need to wait for that. Keep an eye on the steamer and add more water if it boils away too quickly.

I would recommend storing the leftover bread in the fridge in foil or an airtight container because of the moisture content. You can toast or bake the bread out of the fridge.