#here-comes-de-custard

[morallyinept]

Ring Toss - A Frankie Morales One Shot 🍩

Summary: Frankie comes home with a box of treats, just for you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶 "It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Oral, M receiving/mild dirty talk. Delicious food porn with Frankie. What else is there to say?

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Frankie and donuts... 🤤 Dedicated to lovely @secretelephanttattoo 🍩😘

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The box of sweet, sticky treats is calling your name.

You can’t resist them. Nu-uh, no way. Your one weakness and he knows it.

You pout up at him, trying to be riled, but the smirk on his tan face blooms across those luscious pink lips of his, and despite you wanting to slap it off of his chops at his gall of tempting you - you know you can't resist his sweet face either under that patchy scruff.

“I’m on a diet.” You scowl at him, trying not to smirk back.

“Screw the diet, hermosa. You can have one, right?” Frankie shrugs, looming in front of you.

“Noooo. It’ll undo all the hard work I did at the gym today.” You whine. The ache in your calves reminds you to hold strong. And maybe not go so hard on the cross trainer next time...

Frankie scoffs, holding the box out to you and you continue to refuse the sugary, deep-fried treats that are inside ganging up on and leering at you.

You can smell them. Oh God. It's like he's opened up Pandora’s Box and colourful sprinkles and sticky, creamy glazes are calling out to you; luring you in like a Siren song only you can hear.

Hijo de puta!

“I got 'em fresh. I got the custard ones, I know they’re your favourite.” Frankie insists with a tempting pink purse of his lips.

“You did?” You ask leaning forward to peer into the box.

Yep, there they were; oozing and sticky with that thick gloop leaking out of one of them like it had been shot and was bleeding out its vanillary insides.

No, stop it!

“Yeah.” He nods, smiling pleasantly down at you from under that well worn in cap; his messy curls rioting behind his ears. Deep brown eyes penetrate you with a beguiling simmer laced around them.

It was really sweet of him, touching. He knows what you like and how to make you happy. It's the little things Frankie does that give you the constant heart eyes for him.

The way he holds open the passenger side door for you on his beat up Pickup, and always takes your hand as you step out like you're his queen.

The way he always greets you when you come home from work with a swamping, lingering kiss, pushing you up agaisnt the back of the door, readily equipped with his large hands squeezing and groping at your body affectionately, before you've even said hello to one another.

The way he stops off on the way home from his group therapy sessions on a Thursday, to grab a box of fresh donuts from Dough Boyz, and ensures your favourites are plentiful.

Frankie smiles with tempting, molten eyes. Big browns out on full display. That same puppy-dog look he gives you which renders you absolute mush at his feet, usually.

“I hate you.” You shake your head. The pout is back and it's staying put. Much like your stony resistance.

“You hate me, huh?” Frankie baulks with a tinkling chuckle as he scratches at his scruff under his chin.

You fold your arms, sinking back into the couch and refusing him, trying to watch the TV - anything to distract you away from that heady, saccharine scent that wafts from the forbidden box of calorific delights.

“Suit yourself, muñeca. More for me.” Frankie says casually, tossing the box on the coffee table.

“I hope you get fat!” You call to him playfully as he saunters off towards the kitchen, his laugh echoing around you.

"You want a coffee?" He calls back.

"No, thanks," you humpf in response.

He leaves it there, lid open whilst he goes into the kitchen. You glance at it; your eyes darting back and forth at the temptation of sticking your fingers in and selecting the one that oozes with that yellowy-golden custard you long to taste cloying around your gums.

It's a test. You know it. Leave it open to tempt and twist you into finally submitting, and then Frankie would walk in to catch you red-handed and to see half of them snarffed up; crumbs mottled down your top and smeared sugar constellations across your cheeks.

Oh, he is such an asshole!

Frankie pads back into the lounge after a few minutes with his coffee and sits on the sofa adjacent to you, putting his long legs up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles. He reaches forward for a donut.

You watch as his dexterous, thick fingers pry a glazed ring out of the box, and he sits back into the cushions getting comfortable, bringing it up to his mouth.

Oh, it's like watching a filthy, X-rated porno.

How those plush, pink lips would part and he’d bite into the dough, licking his lips free of the sticky glaze. Shrapnels of glaze getting stuck in the fuzz of his moustache.

He watches the TV absentmindedly whilst he feasts quietly, unaware you want to launch the box of sugary treats at his head for bringing them here, the shithead.

But you want one, you soooo want one.

No! I worked hard this week. No treats!

But one won’t hurt.

You can’t just have one though, can you?!

But he brought you custard donuts, he loves you.

Fuck!

His dark eyes flick towards yours and you look away as he brings his coffee back up to his lips and smirks.

You try to invest yourself into whatever the heck it is rolling across the TV screen, but the overwhelming scent of sugar, and the sound of him smacking his lips together, soon draws your attention away again.

Frankie sucks his fingers slowly; the squeaking wet sounds of them popping out of his lewd mouth, before he runs his tongue around his teeth, sounds like it's gunfire inside your ears, thundering.

Loud enough for you to know the bastardo is doing it on purpose. Louder than the steam coming out of your ears.

Fuck that fucking fucker!

Your willpower is waning as you stare at the box of donuts on the coffee table taunting and seducing you.

No, I'm not going to give in. He wants me to and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. Nope!

You glance at Frankie and he's watching you again with those dark chocolate eyes. “Just have one, you know you want to.” He tempts you.

Yeah, all he needs is a horned tail and a pitchfork, right?

“That’s not the point, I can’t have one. You know I can’t.” You sulk, shaking your head.

“Why? Because you went to the gym? One donut isn’t going to fucking hurt, hermosa.” He scoffs, chuckling.

You turn away again. “You don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m all for keeping fit, but a treat now and again in moderation is good, baby.” He smiles. "You've earned it."

You shake your head trying to ignore him.

“You’re really gonna resist?” Frankie questions.

You nod. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Well alright.” He sighs, admitting defeat.

You watch the TV again, smouldering away. You then see him reach forward and put his coffee cup down on the table in your peripherals.

He reaches into the box, with those wandering fingers once more. The one he pulls out is a plain one; the sister of the previous he'd just devoured.

He eyes it and then puts it back and reaches for another that takes his fancy instead; this time choosing one with sprinkles scattered across the pink, shiny glaze.

He sits back into the cushions again and looks darkly at you.

“You really won’t eat this?” Frankie questions.

“No.” You shake your head again feeling your brain rattle inside your skull.

“But what if I really want you to eat it, to enjoy it? I mean, I brought these as a reward for how well you’ve been doing lately at the gym… what a waste.” He sighs, shaking his head. He pouts at you too, those thick lips pursed out.

“Are you trying to guilt trip me, Morales? It’s not working.” You confirm, frowning.

"Ya lo veremos..." Frankie sighs with a slick smile.

"Stop it," you warn.

You watch him put the donut between his lips and then let go; it balances precariously between those plumpy, pink smackers and his fuzzy moustache.

With his hands, he simply reaches down, undoes the buckle on his belt, the button on his jeans, and then unzips his fly.

You watch, with widening eyes, as he pulls out his cock and pumps it a few times in his fist.

You can hear him groan around the donut hanging out of his mouth; eyes rolling back as he acqaints himself with his thick, swelling dick.

Oh shit...

He jerks on his cock; little wheezed breaths pelting out of his chest, until he's fully hard and rigid in his hand.

He looks at you the whole time he's doing it too.

“What... are you doing?” You baulk at him, feeling hot prickles dance on the back of your neck. The heat flares all over your body and you clench your fist around the throw over the couch you're sitting on.

He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively with a small shrug of his shoulders, unable to speak with the donut hanging out of his mouth; his saliva starting to melt the glaze that he can feel pooling in the corners.

Frankie then takes the donut from his mouth, licking crudely at his lips, and simply places it over his stiff cock. Sliding his thick member through the hole tightly in the centre, and pushes it down as far as it will go without breaking.

The donut rubber-rings itself around him and he lets go. His cock stands up right, fully hard and bobbing two and fro a little with the weight of the donut around it.

You swallow hard as he sits there waiting for you expectantly. He rests his arms over the top of his head; eyes peering darkly at you from under the rim of his cap. He juts his hips forward, challenging you brazenly.

Frankie's smirk is widening, and your cheeks are turning more red as the seconds wear on. Red with fury, red with abject need...

Oh, you son of a b-

“Frankie-”

“Eat it,” he encourages with an ever-widening grin and beckons you over with two fingers. "Come here."

You sigh, and then giggle in unison with him as he chuckles.

"You're such an ass."

“Come on,” he rouses, wiggling his hips from side to side and his cock rocks, life buoyed inside the donut and bites his lip suggestively.

You stand up, completely caving; a sound escaping you similar to a bear disturbed from their hibernation, and make your way towards him, utterly burning up now.

Yeah, he’s totally done a number on you alright.

“You’re gonna make a mess all over your jeans.” You roll your eyes.

He shakes his head. “You’d better eat it quickly then before it sticks.” Frankie teases as you approach him.

He runs his pointer finger around the orbit of the donut, in the pink glaze, and sucks it into his mouth.

"Mmm," he quips and klaxons sound in your ears.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you remark to him, trying to resist his allure.

He pulls you forward by your wrists and your face meets his. “It’s why you love me.” He purrs before he kisses you.

"I do, damnit." You sigh.

His lips are sweetly tasting and you suck on his bottom lip, sampling the crusted glaze and groan in delight at the sugar rush of it.

You reach down to feel his swollen head poking out the top of the donut oozing. You suck your fingers and they are sweetly swirled with the donut glaze and that salty glaze all of his own that beads from the slit.

“You taste really good.” You murmur to him.

“Oh, I know,” Frankie smirks. “You should have more of me, hermosa.” He incites.

You kneel down between his legs and crane forward. Looking up at him, you take a gentle bite from the donut, and he bites his lip again watching you.

Oh, it tastes fucking better than you could have imagined.

Your fingers are scratching inside the soft, downy hairs of his thighs into his groin as he thrusts his hips out a little more towards you.

The donut tastes fantastic, and you make sure to allow your lips to brush over him now and again, making him gasp and shudder.

Yeah, now it's your turn to tease the fuck out of him.

The gummy taste of the glaze coates him and sticks to his skin; you eat more of the donut from around his cock, savouring it. It's a sticky sweet mess that makes you whine. Makes you sweat. Makes your head swim and your sex pulse in desire and need.

"That's it, baby. Eat it all up..." Frankie encourages.

You scoff the donut around him, slowly revealing more of his impressive and hard cock that you long to devour.

Thick, veiny and so fucking hard. A beautifully flushed head that drips and throbs as you run your tongue over it, tasting every morsel of that sticky syrup.

Your body clenches and drools in response.

"Mmm," he croons, smiling.

Frankie runs his hands through your hair as you finish it; crumbs from the dough dotted around his length and dappled in the fuzzy short hairs at the base of him as you swallow your last mouthful of the wondrous treat.

His eyes burn into yours as he watches you lick up the side of his shaft where the glaze is stuck in wet globules, and you feel his cock pulse in response.

“Yeah…” He whispers, keenly and nodding at what's to come. "Suck it."

You open your mouth as you get to the top, placing him inside and you swallow him down.

“Fuck!” Frankie whines out; his head thrown back against the couch cushions as you give him that sweet, succulent head that he craves.

Your fingers claw into his thighs as you bob up and down, head stuffed inside his lap, sucking him clean. You lick and kiss the whole length of him. Tonguing around the head like a popiscle, licking up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, and slurping him down deeper into the trenches of your throat.

You feel him put a gentle pressure on the back of your head; he wants you to deep throat him, to take him in all the way. To choke and gag on him as that frothy spittle hangs from your lips.

He grunts out as you do it; swallowing his thick, tasty cock deep inside your throat and pressing your nose against the skin above his groin.

You inhale him in, sighing in satisfaction as you do. You love the taste of him, the fullness of him. The way he packs you out around your cheeks.

He feels you heave around him and hisses out as the back of your throat squeezes around him.

"Eso se siente tan jodidamente bien, no pares..." he groans with a silky hiss.

Frankie pulls out and you gasp for air; crystal saliva strings dangling from his swollen head to your mouth.

He pulls you up and kisses you; tasting the donut, tasting himself and smirking at you.

Sucking on your tongue, Frankie whines and your body is burning up. You're craving more. The sugar rush floods through your veins making your fingers shake.

"More, baby." Frankie encourages. "You're so fucking good at that."

He lets go of you and you go back to sucking him off. Holding the base of him steady, and he throws his hands up again behind his capped head, shuffling down the couch a little; enjoying the show of you taking him in.

Hungry for it, hungry for him. Basking in that candy coated wonderland of that sweet tasting cock.

You work his shaft, pumping as you go to really get him going; massaging his balls that are aching to release, and give him plenty of eye contact as he watches you mouth on him.

“Fuck, baby I’m gunna come…” Frankie gasps; his thighs twitching and shaking as he releases, filling your mouth with that delicious, thick custard of his own.

He tastes so fucking good.

He watches, enthralled, as you swallow it all down, licking your lips and sucking your fingers afterwards.

“Yum,” you murmur at him with a wink.

Frankie smiles at you through flushed cheeks and blissed out brown eyes like he's high, utterly beside himself in post-coital dumbness for a few beats.

You promptly stand up and turn to the box on the coffee table, plucking out that weeping custard donut, and sit back in your spot on the adjacent couch and bite into it.

Frankie chortles loudly; cock and balls still out as you devour that delicious custard treat without any ounce of guilt.

"Knew you couldn't resist." He chants.

"You play dirty, Morales." You say around a mouthful and it's heavenly.

"Always, hermosa."

Yeah, one or two donuts won’t hurt, right?

I really hope you enjoyed reading this tasty treat with Frankie. If you did, please consider re-blogging this so others can also have their fill. I'd love to know your thoughts too. Thanks so much for reading! 🖤

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie triple frontier #triple frontier frankie #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fluff #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys #gimme that donut

[childrenofthefallen]

And here's Pure Vanilla/Vanilla Milks design for the AU, I gave him black hair streaks and Red eyes to represent Burning Spice. And then the eyes in the shadows, the eye on the staff, his eye and many other things represent Shadowmilk, the eyes in the shadows are supposed to actually be Shadowmilk essentially still watching over him even while in the tree, also because of that line he says in game where he pretty much says he's been watching Pure Vanilla for like forever/when he got the souljam. Atleast I think that's generally what he said. Anyways heres the Lore for this silly guy.

He's the son of Shadowmilk, and Burning Spice. And is the twin brother of Golden Cheese.

He was originally named Vanilla Milk but it was changed by the Witches when he was given to his adoptive Mother.

He recognized Shadowmilk quite quickly, and when he did he practically ran to and hugged him.

His staff was actually made by Shadowmilk, which was then given to Blueberry Yogurt to keep until PV graduated and then BY gave it to Pure Vanilla when he graduated from the Academy.

He is married to Dark Cacao, and usually visits the Cacao kingdom during the summer months.

When Dark Choco was a kid he would sing the song that SM used to sing to PV and GC to him.

Much like Shadowmilk he can be quite mean when it comes to protecting his friends/family.

White Lily and him aren't as close then they are in game Lore, and he hasn't quite forgiven her yet either.

GC resides the Vanilla Kingdom currently, and while PV is in beast yeast she is the acting queen(Custard the 3rd is making most of the decisions but when it comes to difficult ones it goes through her before it's confirmed)

Pure Vanilla doesn't know much about Burning Spice, although Shadowmilk when speaking of him usually talks about how he was before corruption.

He's usually quite calm but when clotted cream accused them of being just like DE he was tempted to kick him out right then and there.

He's still called Silly Vanilly by Shadowmilk in this AU and it's embarrasses him quite a bit.

He does have a crown which is quite similar to Dark Cacao's, although he doesn't wear it like at all, but it's in his room.

He's quite concerned for GC especially with her blooming relationship between WL and HB, it's more because of her stress with WL and her Kingdom being destroyed but he is confident she knows what she's doing.

He and Dark Choco were extremely close to eachother before DC joined the COD, he did speak to DC when he left the COD wishing him well on his journey.

SM and him talk a lot while he's in Beast-yeast, and will send letters once he leaves even though SM is probably going to go to the Vanilla Kingdom with him(I forgot to mention for SM's Lore but he's actually pretty nice in this au, he acted similar to his Canon self in the beginning, but when he got hugged by PV he generally started acting nicer)

That's it I'm pretty sure- I'd have made him look much more like SM and BS but I didn't want to change him to much from his Canon self, but it plays in with the fact that the Witches probably would've changed the ancients so they don't look like their parents and also changed their names. I'll see you when I do GC

#cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #crk au #crk #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk

[whinlatter]

<Art credit: Margaryta Yermolayeva>

Wild card trick or treat: go nuts, friend.

Send an ask with “Trick or treat!” to the writer who reblogged this & you could receive a 3-sentence fic, drabble, headcanon, sneak-peek at a WIP, the last sentence they wrote, a new fic idea, random line from a fic, picture of their notebook, a deleted line they love, an idea for a sequel, something they’re researching, behind-the-scenes info on a published fic, or something else!

an excuse to post hinny deleted scenes??? 👀👀👀

i bit off more than i can chew with this delightful trick or treat challenge but i do have literally mountains of dumb harry/ginny letters that didn't make the cut in beasts so here's some deleted scenes/the two of them doing what they do best (flirting by post, shooting the shit). do i love these lines? not particularly, but i love these two and i couldn't find anywhere for this extremely dumb exchange to go in the fic so sharing it here in honour of halloween will have to do! thank you sm @turanga4!

Gin, 

How’s your week? It’s shit here. Work’s shit, weather’s shit, house is shit. Today I also stood in literal dog shit and I couldn’t even scourgify my shoe because I was in a street full of Muggles so I had to wait until I was in the employee entrance at work to try clean it out. And then when I walked in someone said ‘what’s that smell’, and then someone else started retching and someone else started pointing and going ‘shit is that Harry Potter’. So then I had to try to pretend like it wasn’t me that had shit on my shoe until the room had cleared and I could finally sort it out. And now I’m worried the Prophet is going to run a story about how Harry Potter smells like shit, or start calling me The Boy Who Lived in His Own Filth, or bring those Potter Stinks badges out of retirement and send them into mass production, or something.

Yours (drowning in shit) -

Harry

—

The Boy Who Lived in His Own Filth (catchy),

I’m sorry your week has been so full of shit (literal and figurative). It does seem cosmically cruel that you can save the Wizarding World and still find yourself standing in dog shit. You’d think the universe would give you a pass, or something. Really, no treading in dog shit for the rest of your life seems the least the universe could do for you, given how much trouble you’ve gone to. I’m outraged on your behalf and willing to write to whatever necessary higher power to make this right. 

It’s pretty shit here too. I miss you (yawn, lame, boring). When you inevitably go into hiding from the brutal Prophet expose of your personal hygiene habits you are very welcome to hang out with me up here/hide out in Hagrid’s cabin and help me try to explain to him the proper consistency of custard. 

Yours in shitty solidarity,

Hagrid’s long suffering sous chef

—

Dear Hagrid’s long suffering sous chef/custard de-lumper in chief,

Thanks for the sympathy. I miss you too, a lot (yawn, lame, boring). Ron’s just asked if I’m writing to you ‘again’ like he doesn’t write to Hermione each time there’s a Y in the day. He just asked what we even talk about. So if he asks I told him we’re working on a big list of his flaws and most embarrassing moments to read out at his thirtieth and/or him and Hermione’s wedding, whichever comes first. Now he’s saying we’re ‘very childish’ and keeps trying to get a look at the parchment to check if I was lying or not. Oh wait no now he’s going up to his room to write Hermione about his very busy exciting day spent reading evidence logs and complaining about the canteen’s stingy pie portions. What a lucky girl.

Keep fighting the good custard fight. 

Yours,

Harry

PS. Thanks for the offer but have to say no to hiding out in Hagrid’s hut. Fang’s poos are huge. I can’t risk it. Can I not crash in your dormitory? The steps up to the girls’ rooms don’t still turn into slides, do they? 

—

Outrageous and scandalous attempt to wangle your way into my bed, Potter. Of course the steps still turn into slides. What, you thought because there was a war on and the castle got pounded to smithereens the relics of archaic magical paternalism designed to defend young witches’ virtues would somehow cease to function? How naive. Anyway, I for one am grateful for the slides, if they stop you bringing your stinky shit covered shoes into our dormitory.

Tell Ron I'm writing you absolute filth. Like debauched sexual propositions, truly eye-watering stuff. That said, if you think for a second I’m not going to back my dear brother in his campaign for generous pie portions then you’re out of your mind. Despite the sneering of critics (you), we Weasleys believe in the importance of hearty pie helpings, almost as much as we believe in the importance of perfect custard viscosity.

Yours,

Ginny

PS. You're literally not going to believe this - wrote this letter at Hagrid’s, was heading out and sealing it up to send and I literally stepped in one of Fang's enormous shits. What are the chances???

#hinny #this is extremely dumb content #but they're dumb jocks at heart so it works #literally just harry and ginny flinging poo jokes at each other across the scottish border #hinny fanfiction #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #beasts #trick or treat challenge

[aminocamino]

Day 7 - Cirauquie to Estella 14.7km 219m

Sat in the little breakfast room of our Albergue. Got here just before 1pm. We have a lovely room at the Hostel de Curtidores. Its an 19th century tannery building right on the river. Bliss.

Back to yesterday evening. Our room only had 6 bunkbeds. We decided after Roncesvalle to stick to the smaller hostels.

We were craving some vegetables (its all ham, cheese and bread, and eggs) and the Albergue came up trumps. In the communal meal we had a lovely fresh salad to start followed by well seasoned chick pea stew with vegetables. And a honey caramel custard to finish. For decor, facilities and stunning location by far my favourite.

Due to uncertainty around where we might get breakfast this morning we purchased a little goodie bag breakfast. Well ofcourse we hit a lovely cafe two kilometres down the road!

Simes you will be pleased to know that I have found someone worse than me with her layers… on/off/on and wears enough for a good winter storm to start walking even if the forecast says 19 degrees. 😂 Bless…

The view from the terrace. I cannot describe how pretty this little village is or the location. Worth the whole trip.

The Albergue is quirky with its decor. I loved it especially the tiled floor in the hallway.

Today the views were very pretty with wild flowers especially red poppies along the path.

We detoured to a beautiful abandoned church on the way out of Lorca - unfortunately I don’t know the name but inside were stories that pilgrims had left of their lives and loved ones they had lost. Very moving.

Estella is a beautiful town with some of the most amazing medieval buildings ever and they tower above you. Definitely having an explore later.

Now need to go and take the washing out of the dryer. To wash and dry stuff in a washing machine and dryer is such a relief. My socks will probably come out fitting a 6 year old. 😲

[the-al-chemist]

A Mother’s Love

A/N: It’s Mothering Sunday where I am, and so in honour of both that and this month’s theme for @hp-12monthsofmagic, here is a story about mothers, featuring the most famous (and fecund) mother in the Wizarding World. To anyone who is a mother, is hoping to become a mother, or has lost a mother, I wish you all the very best today. Warnings: references to canon character death and discussion of bad parent-child relationships/child neglect.

Spring had sprung in Ottery St Catchpole. The trees along the riverbanks had burst into shades of emerald and sage, and the rolling fields were filled with wildflowers and young lambs. At The Burrow, the chickens were happily pecking their way around the courtyard, while the gnomes had taken over the garden. A ginger cat was attempting to stalk them, lionlike, through the overgrown grass, his fur gleaming like amber in the Sunday morning sunshine.

Artemis watched the scene from the kitchen window, a cup of tea in her hands. As Fergus the cat pounced on his would-be prey and missed it entirely, she stifled a giggle, feeling guilty for laughing at his misfortune. After all, he couldn’t help not being as sprightly as he used to be.

“Those gnomes have been busy, Molly,” she said to Mrs Weasley, who had joined her by the window with a plate of biscuits. “There’s loads of them these days.”

“Well, that’s what happens when there are no young people around to help get rid of them,” Molly replied. “The boys and Ginny are all too busy with their husbands and wives and little ones. Except for Charlie, of course, but then I can hardly expect him to come all the way here from Romania just to de-gnome the garden for me.”

A chuckle came from the other side of the kitchen, and Artemis turned to see Charlie leaning against the fireplace, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t see why not,” he laughed. “You’ve already put me up to all the other jobs that you want doing around here. Why not have me de-gnome the garden as well?”

“If you’re offering, dear, I’m not going to say no.”

“Course not. Alright, I’ll deal with the gnomes for you. Just let me have a cup of tea first, I need a break from sorting out the roof.”

Charlie took two biscuits from the plate Molly held in one hand, and she used the other to pat her son’s cheek before summoning him a large mug filled to the brim with steaming hot tea.

“There you are, dear. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Mum.”

“Oh, and Artemis!” said Mrs Weasley suddenly, as if she had only just remembered something important. “I have a job for you, too!”

Artemis frowned. “Really? What?”

“Well, I’ve bought some new dress robes for little Molly’s christening. I’d love for your opinion on them before everyone else arrives for lunch.”

“What about my opinion?” Charlie asked through a mouthful of custard cream. His mother tutted.

“Don’t be silly, Charlie,” she said, and she walked across the kitchen and up the stairs without a backwards glance. Charlie shrugged.

“Alright. Bit rude.”

“Clearly, she thinks I dress better than you,” said Artemis, giggling into her cup of tea. Charlie raised a single eyebrow at her. “What?”

“That’s a very bold thing for you to say whilst wearing my shirt.”

“This is mine,” Artemis told him. “I’ve had it for years.”

“That’s funny, because I’ve been missing one just like that for years,” said Charlie, and Artemis pulled the flannel material of the shirt that used to be his around her protectively.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “You’re the worst.”

“No, you are.”

The sound of a woman’s scream pierced the air, and Charlie put his mug down on the counter, his head snapping towards the top of the stairs.

“Mum?” he called out, already walking across the kitchen, one hand reaching for his wand. “Is everything alright?”

No response came. Charlie frowned and looked back at Artemis before starting to climb the staircase. In an instant, Artemis was a step behind him, her own wand drawn.

They made their way up to the landing, where the door of Mr and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom was ajar. On the other side of it, Mrs Weasley was standing in front of an open wardrobe, teary-eyed and limply holding a pale blue dress, her husband’s dead body at her feet.

Charlie’s face blanched as he looked down at the floor, but a second later, the body disappeared with a loud crack, and was replaced with another, one that looked identical to his own. Artemis looked from the Charlie on the floor to the one at her side, and reached for his arm to check that he was really there. He was. Mrs Weasley shrieked in terror once more, and Artemis nodded her head, finally realising what was going on. Still, she swallowed hard before speaking.

“It’s a Boggart, I think,” she said, stepping forward and taking Charlie’s mother by the hand. “Here, Molly. Let me deal with it.”

She placed herself between Mrs Weasley and the body on the floor, which immediately vanished. There was another loud crack, and she found herself standing face to face with herself. As she watched her own features start to shift, she raised her wand, ready to banish the Boggart.

But, once its features had changed, she found that she was unable to do it. She was powerless, frozen to the spot as she stared blankly at the Boggart’s new form - one she had never known a Boggart to take before.

The first time she had seen a Boggart at thirteen, she had found herself facing the Dark Lord Voldemort. A few years later, her Boggart had taken the form of witch who had killed her best friend in cold blood. Today, however, her Boggart had chosen to imitate someone else entirely, someone unexpected, someone who should not have made Artemis’ throat turn to dust or her heart pound or her blood freeze in her veins.

Her mother.

Tears of confusion and frustration pricked Artemis’ eyes as her mother’s features shifted into her own and back again. She heard Charlie swear behind her, but his voice sounded strangely distant.

“Hey,” Charlie’s voice said. He spoke gently, but he sounded louder this time, and she felt his arm brush against the flannel material of her sleeve. “Why don’t you deal with me instead?”

Slowly, Artemis’ mother turned to look at Charlie, and as her eyes met his, she disappeared. In the place where she had been standing, a large spectral skull now hung in the air. The skull was green and cloudy, and glittered slightly in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. When it opened its mouth, a serpent protruded from it, and snaked through the air towards Charlie, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, and the Dark Mark exploded like fireworks. He turned to Artemis. “Artie…”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Charlie, as he said, made no move towards her, but still, Artemis flinched away from him. Seeming to realise that the air in the room had suddenly become too hot and too heavy for Artemis to breathe freely, he took a large step backwards and allowed her to walk past him, out of the room, down the stairs, and out to the garden, where she sat on the back doorstep with her trembling hands pressed to her hairline.

After what might have been a minute, or an hour, or three, she heard Fergus purring and felt his ginger body rub against her shin. She unfolded herself slightly to stroke one of his greying cheeks.

Fergus wasn’t the only one wanting to check that she was okay, because in her peripheral vision she saw a flash of bright red hair. She looked up, expecting to see Charlie in the doorway, but it wasn’t him. It was Molly, a cup of tea in one hand and a leatherbound book in the other.

“Here, dear,” she said, bending down and placing the cup down on the step next to Artemis. “It’s got sugar in. Good for the shock.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Artemis did not really care whether Molly sat with her or not, so she picked up the cup of tea and shuffled sideways to make room for Mrs Weasley to sit on the step beside her.

“Horrible things, Boggarts. You never really get used to seeing them.”

“No.”

“That was the first time you saw yours look like that though, wasn’t it?”

If Artemis hadn’t felt so shaken, she would have rolled her eyes.

“Charlie told you that, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t need to,” said Molly. “I remember how it felt when my Boggart changed to what it is now. I hadn’t seen one in a long time, and then after the war broke out… Well, you saw what it is now. Although, looking back, perhaps it changed to that earlier. I’d only ever seen one when I was very young. It might have been motherhood that changed it, as it changes lots of things.” She placed her hand on Artemis’ knee and looked at her with curious and concerned brown eyes. “When do you think your Boggart started looking like your mother, Artemis?”

“I dunno,” Artemis replied. She moved her cup in her hands, the untouched tea swirling around it. “I haven’t seen one in ages, not one that I’ve been facing, anyway. It changed once before, after Rowan died, but… It could’ve been any time. Maybe during the war, or before, like yours.”

“Or since then, maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“It would make sense. After all, the idea of turning out like your mother would be a more pertinent worry for you these days.”

“I dunno, Molly. I’ve never wanted to turn out like my mother.”

“No woman ever does,” Molly said conspiratorially, and Artemis let out a quiet laugh. “But now you’re at the age where you’re bound to be thinking about motherhood yourself…”

Artemis shook her head. “No. I mean, I have done, but the more I think about it, the less I want that. Motherhood, I mean.” She looked at Molly and shrugged. “No offence.”

“I’m not offended, dear.”

“It’s not that I don’t like children. Although I don’t really like them, except for Victoire and Dominique and the others, obviously. I like them.” Artemis looked out beyond the garden fence at the rolling countryside that extended towards the horizon. “More than anything, though, I like being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want. I like being able to do what I want to do for me, without having to put anyone else first.” Her teeth grazed her lip and she glanced back at Molly apologetically. “I know that sounds really selfish.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Molly replied. “I think that’s actually the hardest thing about having children, knowing that your life is no longer your own to lead. You lose a bit of yourself and a lot of your freedom. For you more than anyone, I can see why you wouldn’t want to give that up.”

“Yeah. I think that might be why my Boggart looks like that, like my mum. She had no freedom at all for years and years, and she was so hurt and so bitter about it that she lost almost all of herself. I don’t want that for myself, not ever.”

The garden was quiet, aside from Fergus’ purr and the gnomes scurrying around beneath the honeysuckle tree. Artemis sipped her tea. It was more sugary than she would have liked, but it stopped her hands from shaking.

“You still don’t speak to your mum, do you?” Molly asked her eventually.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have anything to say,” said Artemis. “I mean, we barely spoke when she was there. Physically, anyway. She was never really there in any meaningful way, not after everything that happened with my dad. I don’t really remember her before that, and so I don’t know her. Not as a person or as a mum.”

Molly nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Artemis, can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

Artemis shrugged, and Molly picked up the leatherbound book. She placed it on her lap and opened it, flicking through the pages as she spoke.

“This is our family photo album. One of them, anyway. We had more before the house… Well, anyway,” Molly paused. She was smiling, but the look in her eyes was not entirely happy. “This page here is Fred and George’s christening. Summer 1978, so I think this would’ve been the year before your father died, back when your mum was still working for the Ministry. Arthur knew her, invited her to come along. There she is, look.”

Molly pointed to a photo in which a familiar-looking woman not much older than Artemis herself was standing next to a much younger looking Mrs Weasley. The breeze was blowing her dark hair and she was laughing at a joke that Artemis couldn’t hear. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the mother Artemis remembered growing up. She shook her head sadly.

“That’s great, Molly, but-”

“Wait a second. Just wait and you might just see - look, there!”

Molly’s finger pointed to the background of the photo, where a little dark-haired girl was running circles around a fully-bloomed honeysuckle tree. She was small, but not scrawny; her hair was untidy, but someone had taken the time to plait it; and though her clothes were dirty, it seemed as if they had only recently become so. Artemis tilted her head to one side.

“Hang on. Molly, is that me?”

Mrs Weasley nodded and laughed. She wrapped her arm aroound Artemis’ shoulders and squeezed gently, and the two of them watched the little girl Artemis had once been as she ran around the honeysuckle tree that still stood in the garden in front of them.

“There were going to be a fair few children there that day anyway, and Arthur knew you were around the same age as Charlie, so he told your mum to bring you with her,” Molly explained. “I remembered you being there, because I was so scared that day. I had three boys already, and now twins too, and the twins were just starting to move around and looking like they might crawl. I was exhausted and terrified about how I was going to cope, and then… you came along.

“You had these big wide eyes and those sweet pigtails and that pretty little dress, and you smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. And then you took one look at the honeysuckle tree, and before anyone could say ‘bowtruckle’, your shoes were off, you’d climbed right to the very top of it, and jumped all that way back down to the lawn,” she laughed. “You landed on your hands and knees, wiped the dirt off on your nice clean clothes, laughed, and did it again. At least twice more. And I remember thinking that I might have my hands full with all these boys, but five boys couldn’t possibly be harder work than one of you.”

Artemis laughed out loud, tears pricking her eyes as she watched herself run across Mrs Weasley’s lawn and throw her arms around her mother’s waist in a hug that her mum returned.

“Your mum, though,” Molly continued, “she didn’t bat an eyelid. She was so kind and warm and funny. She was wonderful, and she clearly adored you. I don’t think she’d have changed a hair on your head, not for the whole wide world.” She ran her free hand through said hair, tucking a strand of it behind Artemis’ ear. “I know you don’t remember her before everything changed, but this is how I remember her, and you. Not that you’ve changed all that much.”

Artemis smiled in spite of the fact that she felt like crying.

“Thank you, Molly,” she said. “I’m glad you remembered.”

She leant with her head on Molly’s shoulder, raising it suddenly as her younger self ran over two a pair of red-headed boys. The two boys were both bigger than her, and they shared a look of apprehension, but they still allowed themselves to be dragged over to the honeysuckle tree. Molly laughed at the expression on Artemis’ face.

“Oh, yes,” she said, shaking her head. “Even then you had a way of dragging my boys into your shenanigans.” She leaned in closer and whispered into Artemis’ ear, “That I hope will never change.”

With that, Molly stood up and left, taking her photo album with her. Artemis finished her tea, looking at the honeysuckle tree that would soon start to bloom. Once she had finished it, she returned inside to find Molly preparing lunch. Artemis paused by her, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Molly.”

#hp12mom #harry potter fanfiction #molly weasley #artemis hexley #charlie weasley #hpff #hphm #hogwarts mystery #golden era fic

[woozisnoots]

— alexis' dessert stand is: open!

a/n: super huge multitude of thank you's to my beyond talented friend @sansang for making this banner <3 please go check out her blog for more amazing graphics!!

come stop by and try some of these nootricious desserts ^3^

[ 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙗𝙤𝙭 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣! ]

this event is open to any and all seventeen writers, not just the members of the network

feel free to send in as many orders as you would like! there is absolutely no shame in wanting to try everything that’s on the menu ^^ if you end not liking a dessert, or a certain ingredient, you don't have to use it as part of your fic!

in order to get your fic reblogged here and on the net, please mention me @woozisnoots and use the tag #cwcsummerfair in your post. i will also be making a masterlist of all the creations that have been put out here on my main blog!

i will be accepting orders up until the summer fair ends on aug. 12th, but we will continue to reblog works after the fact, so take your time in letting your creativity flow!

if you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to ask. more importantly, have fun and make sure to check out the other booths we have at the caratwritersclub summer fair!

ICE CREAM (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

chocolate vanilla strawberry rocky road cookies and cream cotton candy cookie dough green tea s'mores

toppings:

hot fudge caramel strawberry syrup sprinkles whipped cream cheesecake squares m&ms chocolate chips graham cracker crumbs sliced almonds shredded coconut

CAKE (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

chocolate vanilla red velvet lemon confetti carrot angel marble

FUNNEL CAKE (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

toppings:

sliced strawberries whipped cream powdered sugar nutella

CHURROS (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

cinnamon sugar orange powdered dust strawberry powdered dust blue raspberry powdered dust

fillings/dips:

nutella filling custard filling chocolate dip marshmallow dip strawberry jam dip gooseberry jam dip

MACARONS (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

lemon raspberry pistachio coffee dulce de leche strawberry rose lavender earl gray hazelnut orange and dark chocolate vanilla bean

COOKIES (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

chocolate chip double chocolate chip snickerdoodle oatmeal raisin white chocolate macadamia peanut butter shortbread lemon m&m chocolate crinkle

FRUIT BAR (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

mango peach strawberry blueberry apple kiwi raspberry grapes bananas pineapple guava passionfruit papaya watermelon

#seventeen #svt #cwcsummerfair #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen headcanons

[dybdahlsvisitportugalspainfrance]

More of Lisbon. Hey - it's a big place!

September 4, 2023

We spent the morning exploring parts of Lisbon that we haven't explored on this trip. The weather was not perfect - with lots of intermittent rain showers and wind, but it is never the weather that is bad - just the clothes you have on to deal with the weather. So we were OK!

We met our bus driver, Paco and watched his amazing skills as he navigated forward - and backward - places this huge bus should not go. Our bus is designed to comfortably seat 53 people - so the 17 of us are quite comfy.

We started with a small tour of some places Mark and I had seen on the Hop-on/Hop off bus and then started to explore other places too. We saw the Portugal Parliment but my picture taken through a rain spattered window was pathetic - so "hello my dear friend, Internet."

We worked our way to the one neighborhood that survived the earthquake, fire and tsunami of 1755 - the Alfama.

The roads are small and twisty and many of the roads cannot be transversed by even the smallest vehicle.

The place is built into hills - so steps are everywhere. (That is our sweet leader, Carolina. That is Car-o-leena. FYI.)

These houses were built in the 1500s. Many are covered with tile for easy maintenance.

St Anthony is the patron saint of Lisboa and he was born in the Alfama. This cathedral was built on his birth place.

So the buzz on St. Anthony is that he is the patron saint of match making. Women hoping to find the man or their dreams come here and light a candle. Also he is the patron saint of "missing items". Can't find the car keys? Light a candle and ta-da!

To get to St. Anthony's just grab a trolley.

Shortly after our St. Anthony experience we stopped for coffee and an egg custard tart - Pastéis De Nata - THE Portuguese treat.

And - I can eat these. YUMMY!!!

Our walk eventually took us to the main square of the city - the square where the palace of the king and queen USED to be before it was destroyed by the tsunami in 1755. The new palace was built far from the sea after that event.

We continued exploring in the rain and saw the elevator

We kept walking and got to the main square of the city - the end of the line from the traffic circle from Marquis de Pombol. Check out the patterns in the circle. It is an optical illusion - because it is flat. Weird!

Some our group headed back to the hotel and some of us stayed on to enjoy - a local favorite - Bifanas (pork belly on a bun with mustard.) I couldn't have the bun - but the pork belly was yummy!

As we walked to the Metro we saw this...

Carolina explained to us that this atrocity was a recent find in the hidden history of Lisbon. In 1506 in the middle of the Portuguese Inquisition a congregation of this church...

...mainly made up of "new" Christians - former Jews who had converted rather than die or be expelled - experience a "miracle." The alter was suddenly illuminated and the priest fell to his knees overcome by this miracle, but a parishioner said - HEY - WAIT - that is only the sunlight coming through that window. The priest was enraged and demanded that this "doubter" be killed - there and now. He was - and then the "real" Christians fell on the "new" Christians and killed them too. Then it was buried deep in the history books to be found quite by accident 500 years later.

Now, this church, has a series of bad events. Fire and other things have haunted this place for 600 years. Karma? Whatever it is, it has never had the same power as it experienced before 1500. To quote my granddaughter. when we are discussing history- or new jewelry, "I'm intrigued!"

From here we took the Metro to our hotel. PERFECT. Many people did many different things - but I took a nap. Only 40 minutes - but just the right amount of time to re-charge for dinner.

We took a lovely walk down the Avenue da Liberdade until we reached the funicular. The weather was perfect!!! We had some" technical difficulties" so we waited, waited, and waited but finally - we were headed up. We arrived at the overlook that Mark and I had visited yesterday. We felt so superior knowing exactly where were were...

At the top of the funicular we had a wonderful surprise from Carolina...

A cherry liquor served in chocolate cups. SWEET!!!!! Then on to our Welcome Dinner.

We had a wonderful dinner and a Fado performance. Fado is a Portuguese tradition and is a UNESCO intangible culture designation.

It was so much fun!!!

Check this out - (these are not the artists we saw - but it gives you a good understanding of this art.)

Tomorrow we will explore the city of Sintra. New discoveries await. I love my life!!!!

Stay tuned.

#Youtube

[stagefullofentertainment]

Christmas Time pt. 5

8 marvelous days are left till Christmas! May all of those be prosperous to you in every good way possible! Today I'll be discussing Christmas food choices of our Hazbin friends.

I'm going to write about what holiday meals, desserts or drinks characters would enjoy and serve during Christmas holiday season. Come along to this glorious feast!

Vaggie

Since she is Salvadorian, Vaggie would make something tasty from her homelife time. She would love to share cooking moments with Charlie and tell her not only about how to make these but happy stories from her childhood. Of course, trying them out together is a must and Vaggie only lets others try because of Charlie. Those delicious desserts would include:

Tres Leches (Milk Cake)

Semita de piña (Jam-Filled Pastry)

Leche Poleada (Salvadoran Vanilla Custard)

Horchata de Morro (Drink made from plant milk)

Niffty

With the implication that she originates from Japan, I chose some traditional desserts for our sweet girl. No, no KFC. She would be so happy preparing those for everyone! Since she loves Alastor the most, she would make him some of these not too sweet, so that he could enjoy them more.

Wagashi (Traditional Japanese confections that are often served with green tea, especially the types made of mochi, anko (azuki bean paste), and fruit)

Black Sesame Cookies

Japanese Strawberry Shortcake

Chanmery ( non-alcoholic alternative to wine or champagne)

Husk

Since Husk used to travel a lot during his lifetime, he picked up some favourites here and there. Fact that he prefers food with at least a bit of alcohol. Husk definitely surprised everyone with his cooking skills and felt flattered by compliments.

Fruitcake (Spiced up with alcohol)

Olivier Salad

Beef wellington with red wine gravy

Hot Buttered Rum

Charlie

She would love Christmas time so much! Ugly sweaters, family and friends and loads of good food. She would be that person who loves Christmas bit too much. But who can blame her? Just take a look at her favourite desserts to make! Charlie would make everyone try these out and even sweet despiser Alastor can't say no.

Gingerbread Cookies

Christmas Crumble

Bûche de Noël (Yule Log Cake)

Classic Snowball (Advocaat liqueur and lemonade)

Angel

Who would have thought that this guy can cook? Nobody, honestly. Well, to be fair, Angel needs a lot of help in the kitchen while making those. He kind off remembers recipes but improvises along the way, making questionable yet tasty decisions. Fun times thought!

Struffoli (Honey Balls)

Panettone (Italian type of sweet bread)

Pandoro (Fluffy cake with a topping of powdered sugar)

Vin brulé (Italian-Style Mulled Wine)

Alastor

Though Alastor isn't a huge Christmas celebration fan these days, he was having way more fun when he was a child. Though he would never admit it, he has a soft spot for it because of his mother. She was the one to bring that holiday cheer every year. As well as secrets to wonderful dishes. Even though Alastor does not particularly like sweets, he would always try ones made by his mom. Now he continues this tradition with Hazbin staff who all agree that Alastor is a great cook.

New Orleans-Style Beignets

Jambalaya (Savory dish, consisting of meat, seafood or both and cooked with vegetables, stock, rice, and various seasonings)

Praline (A confection from ground nuts)

Chicory Coffee

#headcanon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel alastor #vaggie #hazbin niffty #husk #charlie morningstar #angel dust #alastor

[saurabhanandtripzygo]

Delicious Discoveries Unmissable Foods to Try on Your Europe Tour

Hey food lovers and travel enthusiasts! 🌍✨

Embarking on a European adventure soon? Prepare your taste buds for a journey as epic as the scenic landscapes and historic sites! Europe is a treasure trove of culinary delights, each country offering its own unique flavors and must-try dishes.

Here’s a scrumptious list of unmissable foods you need to indulge in while touring the continent

Italy: Pizza Margherita and Gelato

Pizza Margherita: Originating from Naples, this classic pizza is a simple yet perfect blend of tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil. Experience the real deal straight from a wood-fired oven.

Gelato: Creamier and denser than regular ice cream, this Italian delight comes in an array of flavors. Try pistachio or stracciatella for an authentic treat.

France: Croissants and Coq au Vin

Croissants: A flaky, buttery pastry that’s a quintessential French breakfast staple. Pair it with a café au lait for the perfect Parisian morning.

Coq au Vin: This hearty dish of chicken braised in red wine, mushrooms, and onions is a comforting classic that’s best enjoyed in a cozy French bistro.

Spain: Paella and Churros

Paella: This iconic Spanish dish from Valencia is a flavorful mix of saffron-infused rice, seafood, and meats. Each bite is a taste of the Mediterranean.

Churros: Crispy, golden sticks of dough dusted with sugar, often dipped in thick hot chocolate. Perfect for a sweet snack or dessert.

Germany: Bratwurst and Pretzels

Bratwurst: These savory sausages, often grilled and served with mustard, are a staple of German cuisine. Enjoy them at a local beer garden with a pint of lager.

Pretzels: Soft, chewy, and slightly salty, pretzels are a delightful snack best eaten fresh from a bakery or street vendor.

Greece: Moussaka and Baklava

Moussaka: A luscious casserole of layered eggplant, minced meat, and béchamel sauce. It’s the ultimate comfort food in Greek cuisine.

Baklava: This sweet pastry made of layers of filo dough, filled with nuts and honey, is a heavenly treat that you can’t miss.

Portugal: Pastel de Nata and Bacalhau

Pastel de Nata: These creamy, custard-filled tarts with a crispy, flaky crust are simply divine. Enjoy them warm with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Bacalhau: Salted cod prepared in numerous ways, but the most popular is Bacalhau à Brás, a comforting mix of shredded cod, onions, and potatoes.

Belgium: Waffles and Mussels

Waffles: Belgian waffles are crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, and often topped with whipped cream, chocolate, or fresh fruit. Irresistible!

Moules-Frites: A pot of steamed mussels served with a side of crispy fries. This dish is simple yet incredibly satisfying.

Turkey: Kebab and Baklava

Kebab: Juicy, marinated meat grilled to perfection. Doner kebab, with its thinly sliced meat wrapped in flatbread, is a must-try street food.

Baklava: Similar to the Greek version but often infused with different spices and flavors unique to Turkish cuisine.

Ready to eat your way through Europe? Don’t forget to pair these dishes with local wines, beers, or traditional beverages to complete your culinary journey. Share your foodie finds and tag us in your delicious discoveries!

#EuropeEats #foodieadventures

[soopsiedaisies]

hii!! for the "i'm not from the us ask game" (which is so interesting btw)

4, 5, 11 and 23

dw, i’d almost entirely forgotten about it!!! 💀

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

Stamppot rauwe andijvie, always.

Andijvie is a bitter leaf-vegetable related to endives (its latin name is cuchorium endivia). I can’t find any references on it being eaten anywhere other than the Netherlands but please correct me if I’m wrong about that lmao. You can boil/blanch it, but generally we eat it raw. It’s (in my humble opinion) fantastic in ‘stamppot rauwe andijvie’, which is basically just mashed potatoes, chopped andijvie, some spices, and (usually) thick, baked-dry bacon bits. Some people also add cheese, if they finish it off in the oven like a casserole. We tend to add smoked sausage as well.

5. favourite song in your native language?

(choosing was hard) my favourite song is probably Het Regent Zonnestralen by Acda en de Munnik (‘It’s Raining Sunbeams’). I keep coming back to it.

11. favourite native writer/poet?

Omg I don’t actually read a lot of Dutch books anymore, but I suppose Harry Mulisch! He was a Dutch icon and a tremendously prolific author.

Books I enjoyed by Mulisch are Twee Vrouwen (Two Women), a tragic queer romance that plays with the Orpheus and Eurydice myth (opinions on it are… mixed), and De Ontdekking van de Hemel (The Discovery of Heaven), which is considered a masterpiece (it is) and I really… can’t describe it, largely because it’s so long and so much. But it’s beautiful nevertheless.

Some general lit recs (of which there are English translations):

I also really, really enjoyed De Engelenmaker by Stefan Brijs, a Flemish author—‘The Angel Maker’ in English. Creepy and intriguing and wonderful. Brijs sets an incredible tone. Love stuff that plays with hubris.

The other one is a classic and also has a movie: Het Gouden Ei (The Golden Egg) by another Dutch icon, Tim Krabbé. It’s a short thriller and an easy read. Totally recommend it.

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

Beer lol. Can’t go wrong with beer here. There’s some spirits too: jenever (the ancestor of gin), a variety of kruidenbitters (spice & herb liquor, very flavourful), and my beloved advocaat (an almost custard-like liquor made of egg(yolk)s, condensed milk, sugar or honey, and an eau de vie).

#not from the us ask game #heartfeltletters-written

[europeas20]

Savoring Lisbon: Traditional and Budget-Friendly Delights Unveiled

#LisbonaVibes #PortugueseCharm #LisbonaDiscovery #HistoricLisbon #TagusRiverViews Indulging in traditional and budget-friendly gastronomic delights in Lisbon is a delightful journey for any savvy traveler.

Begin your day with a visit to a local bakery for a pastel de nata, Portugal's iconic custard tart, paired with a strong espresso. This budget-friendly treat offers a sweet start without breaking the bank.

For lunch, explore Lisbon's vibrant food markets like Mercado da Ribeira. Here, you can savor traditional Portuguese dishes like bacalhau (salted codfish) or bifana (pork sandwich) at wallet-friendly prices. These markets not only provide a feast for your taste buds but also offer a glimpse into Lisbon's culinary diversity.

As the sun sets, venture into the historic Alfama district, known for its narrow streets and authentic atmosphere. Seek out local tascas, small eateries where you can relish petiscos, Portuguese tapas, on a budget. Enjoy a hearty meal of grilled sardines or chorizo with a glass of Vinho Verde, the region's crisp white wine.

Wrap up your day with an evening stroll along the Tagus River, savoring the city lights. By exploring Lisbon's traditional eateries and embracing local flavors, you not only embark on a culinary adventure but also discover that budget-friendly dining can be an integral part of the city's rich cultural experience.

Lisbon on a Budget: 10 Delicious Bites - Pastel de Nata: Portugal's iconic custard tart, a delectable and affordable treat available at local bakeries. - Bifana: A flavorful pork sandwich, perfect for a quick and budget-friendly lunch.

- Caldo Verde: A hearty and economical traditional soup made with kale, potatoes, and chorizo. - Tosta Mista: Lisbon's version of a grilled cheese sandwich, often enjoyed as a tasty and budget-friendly snack. - Prego no Pão: A simple yet delicious steak sandwich, a popular choice among locals for a satisfying meal on a budget.

- Ginjinha: Explore Lisbon's culinary scene with this traditional cherry liquor, often served in small doses at reasonable prices. - Francesinha: While originally from Porto, this hearty sandwich with cured meats and a spicy sauce has made its way to Lisbon, offering a satisfying meal without breaking the bank.

- Amêijoas à Bulhão Pato: Affordable and flavorful clam dish cooked in garlic and coriander sauce, showcasing Lisbon's coastal influence. - Grilled Sardines: Embrace Portugal's maritime culture with this tasty and economical seafood option, especially popular during festivals. - Queijo com Marmelada: A simple but delightful combination of local cheese and quince jam, showcasing Portugal's rich dairy products.

Travel Resources Hotels and Hostels Booking.com is available in 43 languages and offers more than 28 million reported accommodation listings, including over 6.6 million homes, apartments, and other unique places to stay. TripAdvisor is the world’s largest travel guidance platform. With more than 1 billion reviews and opinions of nearly 8 million businesses, travelers turn to Tripadvisor to find deals on accommodations, and book experiences. Klook is a booking platform on which travelers can book hotels, cars, tours and activities, tickets to attractions, and shows at great prices. Hotellook is a service that helps you find and compare prices on hotels around the world, provided by a leading reservation system. Today, Hotellook.com offered to put together information on more than 250,000 hotels in 205 countries. Hostelworld, the global hostel-focused online booking platform, inspires passionate travelers to see the world, meet new people, and come back with extraordinary stories to tell. Hostelworld has more than 13 million reviews across over 17,000 hostels in more than 179 countries, making the brand the leading online hub for social travel. WeGoTrip is an online service for booking audio excursions and tours on 35+ countries on different languages (mostly english). Travelers can take audio excursions created by professional tour guides and local experts. Tiqets’ innovative technology ensures that travelers can book tickets on their phone at the last minute, receive their tickets directly in a digital form, and show their mobile phones in place of physical tickets to museums, places of interest, and attractions. Offers available passes in Europe and the US.

Car Rental You can find the best car rental prices at QEEQ.COM. QEEQ.COM serves road trip travellers from different countries by working with car rental companies all over the world. The company offers its customers the widest set of car rental options and always strives to offer the most competitive price Read the full article

[thehungrykat1]

Enchanting Experiences at Pico De Loro Beach and Country Club

Our second day at Pico de Loro Beach and Country Club offered even more fun and exciting activities inside this luxury residential resort village (Read about our first day here). It was just my first time staying at Pico Sands Hotel and I was amazed to see so many different areas to explore and experience at Pico de Loro.

Our morning started with a buffet breakfast at Pico Restaurant on the ground floor of Pico Sands Hotel. The buffet spread comes with an assortment of breads and jams to start your day. Soups, cereals, and salads are also on display.

I prefer the more traditional Filipino breakfast with garlic rice and beef tapa as my main dish. They also had pork and beans, fish fillet, chicken afritada, and more together with coffee or hot chocolate.

There's also a dedicated Egg Station outside at the garden area with pancakes and waffles as well.

Guests can choose to sit indoors or at the al fresco garden area facing the lagoon. This is arguably the better choice especially if you want to be closer to nature as you enjoy your breakfast.

Since the Pico de Loro Country Club was just right next door, we couldn't resist playing another round of bowling. It would be more fun if we had our friends or barkada with us on this trip, so maybe we'll bring them along next time.

We had lunch at the Sun Coral Café at the exclusive Pico de Loro Beach Club which is only for members and their accompanied guests. The restaurant serves Mediterranean cuisine and homegrown Filipino favorites coupled with relaxed family-style service.

We started with a sample of their Tapas Frias including canapes of Jamon Serrano and Manchego plus Smoked Salmon and Kesong Puti. It also included a pair of Croquetas de Espinacas Con Queso and Calamares a la Romana.

I really liked the Sopa de Ajo bread soup with garlic, chorizo and egg. This soup dish is made with just simple ingredients but it all works well together.

Look at all of the dishes they brought out just for the two of us! The Paella Negra con Camarones comes with shimp and squid ink and is good for sharing. Also on the table was the Lengua con Champignon which has beef tongue stewed in mushroom sauce and the Callos a la Madrileña with its beef tripe and chorizo. We also had the Beef Salpicao and the Pollo de Moruno chicken kebabs with yogurt drizzle.

For dessert, our plate came with the Casidielles (P320), a walnut filled puff pastry which was served with Gelato de Crema Catalana (P250) using their homemade custard gelato.

After our lunch, we went on a short ride to visit Pico de Loro's Eco Mangrove Forest where you can discovery nature's sanctuary with their guided mangrove tour. The Hamilo Coast is home to a 10-hectare mangrove forest, considered the largest in Nasugbu, Batangas. It has over 10,000 mangrove trees and vibrant biodiversity.

With our expert guide educating us along the way, we explored different mangrove trees and mud crabs holes on the ground. We were supposed to go on a Mangrove Boat Tour along the river to witness the serene beauty of the forest and learn about mangroves, their importance to the eco system, and the wildlife that takes residence within it. However, the weather spoiled our plans yet again so we had to end our tour here.

We had time to explore more of Pico de Loro so we went to the Boardwalk which serves as the best photo spot along the resort. We also visited the St. Therese Chapel of the Child Jesus just nearby with its breathtaking view of the coast.

When we got back to the hotel, we were surprised to see this elegant and romantic setup that Pico Restaurant had prepared for us. Pico Sands Hotel offers Unique Private Dining experiences for its guests where you can have a private dinner setup at the gardens or a romantic starlit dinner by the beach.

We were really impressed with our table setup so we were also excited to see the special dinner menu.

For appetizers, we had the Alforno Melanzane with Toasted Focaccia (P320). This roasted eggplant and cheese dip was a tasty starter to whet our appetites.

Next was the Italian Minestrone Soup topped with croutons and parmesan. I loved how rich and thick the soup was with its tomato base balanced by the cheese and bread.

Our main entree uses Sustainable Gastronomy with its Sousvide Batangas Beef with herbs and Pan Seared Pompano fish in lemon caper sauce. These are sourced locally from neighboring farmers which bring livelihood opportunities to the community. It also comes with mashed sweet potato and roasted vegetables.

Lastly, for dessert, we had the Chocnut Tiramisu (P320) which has coffee-soaked lady fingers in layers of cream. This was another delightful way to end our dinner.

But our day was not yet done because we had our appointment for a couple's massage at Rain, The Spa located on the hotel's lobby floor.

Pamper yourself at Rain, The Spa as their gentle touch of massage, the power of herbal remedies, and the magic of energy balancing restore your mind, body, and spirit. We were so tired from the day's activities so we were really looking forward to our relaxing massage.

We had one of their Signature Spa Experiences, the 60-minute Awaken the Senses Massage. This is an aromatic massage where gentle hands work to ease tired muscles with a combination of deep comforting and relaxing strokes using specially blended oils. This led to a long and relaxing slumber for us that evening.

Before we checked out on our last day, we had one more lunch at Pico Restaurant to power us through our journey back home. Chef Charles once again spoiled us with their exquisite menu.

The Azurea Garden comes with balsamic coconut vinaigrette, alugbati, lettuce, turnips, mint leaves, radish, cashew, and kesong puti.

It seemed like they saved the best for last because the Bulalosso is definitely a memorable main dish. This is the popular Batangas beef bone marrow or bulalo cooked ossobuco style. It is a sharing plate good for 4 persons but we managed to finish it by ourselves! That's how good it really is.

We still had space for dessert so we ordered the Milo Dinosaur Gelato (P180) and the Strawberry Gelato (P180) to finish our lunch. We would like to thank Celine Arenillo, Cluster Communications Manager for Pico de Loro, Joseph, and SM Hotels for hosting our wonderful stay at Pico Sands Hotel. We have so many fond memories of our time here and we truly can't wait to go back.

Pico Sands Hotel

Pico de Loro Cove, Hamilo Coast, Barangay Papaya, Nasugbu, Batangas

8464-7888 /  [phone] / [phone]

www.facebook.com/picosandshotel

[email protected]

#PicoDeLoro #PicoSandsHotel #Nasugbu #Batangas #Philippines #HamiloCoast #ResortVillage #Beach #CountryClub

[ezcater]

The Must-Have Toppings for Any Catered Hot Dog Bar

If you’ve ever ordered catering for a business, you know there are a lot of food bar options out there. You may have come across the burger bar, taco bar, or burrito bar, to name a few. These are “buffet” style offerings that come with everything needed to feed a large group of people. Food bars can keep things simple on your end, both in cost and logistics.

But there’s one kind of food bar that’s less common yet just as fun—the hot dog bar! In the spirit of summer, a catered hot dog bar can add a savory twist to team lunches or company events. However, when it comes to hot dogs (whether they’re all-beef, turkey, or veggie dogs), toppings often define this food experience. Which toppings will define your catered hot dog bar?

Let’s Get the Controversy Out of the Way

Ketchup. Catsup. Controversy. Depending on who you ask, ketchup does not belong on a hot dog. Or it does. Here’s the bottom line: You do you! Ketchup is a popular condiment. People love it on burgers, with fries, and even steak, which is why many hot dog bars include ketchup.

If you happen to be catering OKC company lunch, you can order a complete hot dog bar from Freddy’s Frozen Custard & Steakburgers. Your lucky Oklahoma City-based team can get everything they need to build their own dogs: ketchup, mustard, relish, diced onions, chili, and cheese. They can make it their own way, with ketchup or without!

Let’s Get Regional With It

Depending on where your company is located, you may very well live and work in a place with a famous regional hot dog. Chicago, for instance, is known for the Chicago-style dog, complete with yellow mustard, chopped onions, sweet relish, tomato slices, pickle spear, sport peppers, and a beef dog on a poppyseed bun. There are variations of this hot dog, but there is one topping you won’t find: ketchup!

Some restaurants might offer everything you need to make that regional dog. Alternatively, some caterers may offer regional dogs in individually packaged meals rather than in a larger hot dog bar, which can be a great catering option if your order has several dietary needs (like gluten-free or vegan needs). If your region is known for a signature dog, make it a point to include them in your catering order.

Let’s Go All the Way

Another regional favorite is the coney dog, with origins in the Midwest. If you're catering Columbus Ohio company events and you order from Weenie Wonder, you’ll get what you need to make a coney dog. However, a caterer like Weenie Wonder goes beyond regional favorites.

For example, you can get The Wonder Box (Weenie Wonder’s version of the hot dog bar) with hot dogs, buns, coney sauce, atomic relish, yellow cheddar, diced onion, diced tomato, jalapeño, black bean pico de gallo, spicy sauerkraut, ketchup, mustard, and their Wonder Sauce. In other words, a whole lotta toppings. This can be the best way to go if you're ordering for a larger group. It’s a great way to ensure everyone can make the hot dog they want to make—without any controversy!

About ezCater

No matter where your business is located, finding catering has never been easier. Start your next order with ezCater and search for many of the top food options in your area. ezCater is an online search platform built to help you find food for team lunches, sales calls, corporate events, and more. With ezCater’s 100,000+ restaurant connections across the U.S., you can find the right catering for your needs in just a few clicks. ezCater can scale with your business, so whether you need lunch for a dozen people or need to feed an army of hungry sales reps, ezCater has you covered. Get an incredible taco bar for catering Dallas team-building events, or impress prospective clients with the best barbecue catering Nashville has to offer. With this many options, corporate lunches will never be the same.

Order the hot dog bar your team will love at https://www.ezcater.com/

Original Source: https://bit.ly/3XNoyyM

#catered restaurants columbus

[catkittens]

Kay Boyle: Reality, Reality

  Now that – that is bursting with flavour. I’m getting ginger, and then I’m getting lime coming in at the end there. That is a sensation. That is delicious. I could eat up the whole plate. Today, I told myself I was going to have a positive day. Today was day one of My Big Week. I got up early and scrubbed the face with cold water. I was shallow of breath due to the excitement. I couldn’t stop talking to myself. I couldn���t quieten down. Here’s the voice, going duh duh duh duh duhhh non-stop. Can you win? Have you got what it takes? Are you going to shoot yourself in the foot? Get egg on your face? Hmmmmmn? Only the extremely talented survive. It’s all about separating the wheat from the chaff. Only the ones with that special extra ingredient, sorrowful as sorrel, mysterious as saffron, wise as sage, magic as a glittering sheet of gelatine, only the crème de la crème rises to the surface! COOKING doesn’t GET tougher THAN this! I was shouting now into the mirror. Big voice! Big flavours! I rinsed the face, enthusiastically again and again and again. I dabbed the face dry and confessed soberly to my dark-eyed reflection: We’re looking for elegance.

  But truth be told, I was feeling a bit ropy on account of drinking too much whisky the night before. I’ve been drinking whisky because it’s good exercise for my palate. Me drinking a different whisky is like an artist trying a new colour. It’s part of my culinary training, sniffing and detecting. This one was a top dram – 73.32 – and, just to perfect my expertise, I sniffed several times and swirled before saying to myself, ‘Stef, what can you smell?’ I was watching my 24 box set and I turned it down because Jack Bauer was putting me off my stride. I can smell polished wood, polished wood and maybe pear drops. Suddenly, there was Ali and me sharing sweets in the park with the burn near the house I grew up in. I had pear drops and she had Italian creams, which only our Italian cafe seemed to do, exquisite sweets – a kind of fudge with a thick, dark chocolate bottom – and we both had shining eyes, girls’ eyes, excited to be in each other’s company. Maybe that’s it; it’s downhill all the way from then. There’s nothing like the old excitement of girls. Where did they go, the old pals of the babbling brook, and I was swirling the whisky and getting a kind of crème brûlée flavour sneaked in at the end, or maybe vanilla custard. I had three doubles to be sure. Yep. Orange peels and vanilla custard. Then I staggered up the steep stairs to bed, and the whisky roared me to sleep. It wasn’t a lullaby. It was loud, a sailor singing speed bonny boat at the top of his voice. Finally, I think I landed up on Skye and fell asleep remembering the time when I went to the south of Skye on holiday, a cottage near the Aird of Sleat, and I met a man who said, ‘Have you been to the north of the island?’ I said, ‘Yes,’ and he said, ‘I dinna like it up there, it’s much too commercialized.’ And he was talking about three shops! Or the time when I was in a pub in Orkney and England was playing Germany and England was winning four to one, would you believe, and a wee man’s voice shouted out, ‘C’mon, Germany!’ and everyone laughed. I went to sleep thinking about that, and my big day, which is now today. I said, ‘C’mon, Stef! You’ve some day ahead. Get yourself some shut-eye, do yourself a favour.’

  Well, so here we are on the first day of My Big Week, and I’m absolutely determined to excel. But first things first! Feed the dog breakfast! I haven’t yet stretched to gourmet meals for my mutt, so I get out a tin and open it, absolutely no point sniffing the tin for notes of offal. It’s an awful smell, pet food. I take the dog round the block. Can’t wait to get back to my kitchen! I’ve got a stopwatch, a set of kitchen scales, a new KitchenAid, a heavy-bottomed pot, a sharp knife, a good chopping board. Cost me a wee fortune, but money well spent. It cost much less than the five-day trip to Florence I’d been thinking about, or the seven days to Lake Garda. I reckon I’m bang on the money: holiday at home is the new going away. Going anywhere nice? somebody at work asked me. I’m having a staycation, I said. I’ve taken a week off work. Well, I’m sick of paying a single supplement to go on holiday on my own. I mean what nonsense! Hello? Pay extra for a single bed? Huh? What kind of person thought that up? Did they sit down one afternoon with a cup of tea, and think to themselves, Aha! Let the recently bereaved, the dumped, the chucked and the lonely pay more, they’re a waste of space? Don’t get me started! One of the reasons I’m putting myself through the HEATS is to see if the HEATS might control my RANTS and stop me veering off the subject. Focus, Chef Stef, this is what is asked of you today. Extreme focus; absolute commitment. You’ve got twenty minutes. There is absolutely no room for error. Let’s Cook! – the voice of the greasy-haired one. I am good at doing his voice. I frighten myself with my own brilliant mimicry! Talk about intimidating. Let’s Cook!

  Timer set for twenty minutes, no cheating. Twenty minutes exactly. Was tempted to give myself twenty-three, but what’s the point in cheating on myself? It’s like pretending to the weighing scales you’ve lost more than you’ve lost. The scales know and so do you. I crack three eggs on the dot of twenty and swiftly whisk them. (I might develop upper-arm muscles as a side benefit.) I chop mushrooms, parsley, and red onion. I roast a red pepper. Ten minutes! I grate some Gruyère cheese, and slice some soda bread. I sauté the mushrooms and the parsley and the red onion together. Five minutes! I grill the tomatoes. I skin and then slice the red pepper. They are all ready! I slip the eggs into the pan and cook on a medium to hot heat, then I add the separate ingredients and fold over. Thirty seconds! Plate up! I stand back from my plate, quickly, sneakily, sprinkling parsley over the omelette as my timer rings. Stand back from your bench! Time’s up! I was out of breath. OMG, it all mattered so much!

  I sit down at my table, ten thirty a.m., a little later than planned, to eat the first HEAT meal of the day. I’ve made a fresh pot of Earl Grey tea, fresh leaves, note, not tea bags, sniff, and some soda-bread toast. I don’t have time to look at the morning newspaper and see what’s going on in the world. I’m sweating, anxious, about what is going to be said. You’ve played it safe with an omelette, the fat-faced friendly one says. To be honest, I’m a little disappointed. And what a lot of work you gave yourself. Nice, but not very inspiring. Where’s the flamboyancy in an omelette? Ah but what an omelette, the greasy-haired one says. This must be the best omelette I have ever eaten in my entire life! As he enthuses, I realize it’s his approval I want most of all. I’m getting the Gruyère flavour, that lovely warm roast red pepper. I suddenly sink and flag, the air going out of me like an imperfect soufflé. I’m depressed with my lack of ambition. An omelette! Call yourself a chef, Stef, and that’s what you produce for the semi-finals? You better smarten up, girl, or you’re going home. The Girl needs to push herself. The Girl needs to raise her game. I need to get to the shops, pronto, for lunch and dinner’s ingredients. Some holiday this is turning out to be! Walkies, I say to my dog, who is the only one who seems to listen to me these days. She wags her tail and sits by the front door whilst I double-check things. Now, now, Stef, think positive, you can still turn yourself around. There’s still time for self-improvement. I try to walk fast, but I can’t walk fast because I’m carrying fifteen stone, which since I tried my new ‘Whisky Diet’ is a lot less than I was a few weeks ago, when I was sixteen and a half stone, before I was promoted to the semi-finals. Low carbs – that’s the secret. That’s why the whisky is a necessity. No carbohydrates in whisky. Little-known fact, that. People out there don’t know the difference between carbs and calories, but don’t get me started.

  I walk into my local fish shop, Out of the Blue. I know they know I live alone. If you buy one tuna steak on a Wednesday and one red mullet on a Thursday and splash out and buy one sushi and one piece of halibut on a Saturday, there’s no hiding the absolute extent of your aloneness. Sometimes the man throws in tails of organically smoked haddock out of sympathy. Once he gave me a free free-range chicken which had lost both its legs, but other than that was in pretty good nick. Didn’t chickens used to fly? I couldn’t tell if it lost its legs whilst still alive or not. Don’t let’s go there. I buy a piece of halibut and a hake steak in Out of the Blue; some fresh spinach, rocket, pear and hazelnuts in the Unicorn, a small piece of Gorgonzola in the Barbican. It seems silly facing the long queue and taking my number, number thirty-four, for four ounces of Gorgonzola but I am emphatic about sticking to my chosen ingredients. A lot of people veer dramatically away from the shopping list; not me.

  I take my dog through the Beech Road park and on the way back I bump into another dog owner who is in quite a state. I don’t know her name but I know her dog’s. She says, ‘I can’t remember when I last got Gatsby wormed. I’m not sure if it’s April she’s due or now. If it’s April I’d rather wait, last year I kept a diary. A dog diary!’ She laughs at herself like she is some kind of genius – ‘But I forgot, and chucked it out, not thinking I’d need to check the dates for this year.’ She throws her eyes up in the air like she is tossing a ball for her dog to fetch, and then she walks off. I am getting used to my only real intimacy coming from the confessions of dog-walkers. It’s amazing the things people tell me. A man stopped to chat the other day, a complete stranger with a Great Dane. He pointed to the slobbering big-eyed dog and said, ‘She gets jealous if I get a new woman. She’s driven all the girls out, even the missus. She’s the missus now, eh, eh?’ I couldn’t tell if he was proud or defeated. He shrugged his shoulders then he hurried off through the woods that lead you to the river Mersey, which stretches all the way from here to Liverpool.

  Today, I’ve really not got time to stand about chatting to dog-owners. ‘I’m up against the clock,’ I say and hurry past the woman who usually stops whilst out walking her Scottish terrier and her Zimmer. ‘Okay,’ she says, her hands resting on the Zimmer. ‘Nice day today!’ ‘Lovely, yes,’ I say. ‘Doing anything nice?’ she says. ‘I’m cooking cordon bleu! I’m in the semi-finals!’ I tell her. She’s the first person I’ve told. ‘It’s costing me more than the vet, all the expensive ingredients, but worth it!’ ‘Mmmm,’ she says and looks a bit envious, or is it dubious, I’m not sure. I bid her farewell. For all I know the heights of her culinary expectations are a tin of Heinz Tomato Soup, followed by a tin of Ambrosia Creamed Rice.

  Stop it, Chef Stef! You’ve turned into a well big snob since you were picked for the semi-finals! I hope you’re not going to leave your old friends behind? Of course not! I hurry through the small park with my Tibetan terrier following behind me. The tender yellow and purple crocuses are out and the modest white snowdrops. My dog stops to sniff the crocuses, pisses, then sniffs again (her equivalent to Chanel No. 5). The shy spring is here. What a relief! The trees are still bare but the leaves will be coming. I hope the schnauzer we often bump into is not coming out today. Damn. My dog has stopped for a poo and I get out my plastic bag. I wait for a second while it cools; it’s the warmth that bothers me most. When I pick it up, I try and think of what the consistency is most like, bread dough maybe, anyone? Clootie dumpling in the pillow? – and in this way, I’m always thinking culinary thoughts even when performing a most unpleasant task. This, as it were, allows me to work on the job! I dispose of the plastic bag in the red dog bin. But the smell, I can’t really stretch to comparing the smell to anything. Put it this way, it’s not exactly fragrant. That’s enough, Stef; let your dog have her modesty. My dog is a bit embarrassed that I have to pick up her doo-doo, because she’s a pernickety wee thing. If she were to hear my inside thoughts, she’d be mortified.

  I arrive back home. Nearly time to start the timer and the lunch. It is one o’clock. No time for the lunchtime news. I am the news. I am the rolling news. I have lost a stone and a half and have started my own HEATS. I could perfect my style and earn a fortune. What would I call it? The Whisky Diet? (That would attract fat alkies!) You Diet and Dog Diets Too? (That would lure obese people who uncannily resemble their obese canines.) For lunch, I’m serving a watercress soup to start followed by a lovely piece of halibut with a Welsh rarebit topping and a spinach, pine nut and raisin salad. I’m using up the Gruyère from the morning omelette. I ask myself: What are we looking for today from you, Stef, do you think? A beautiful plate of food, I answer myself. I need to cook my heart out today. Need to take risks! It is do or die today. Let’s Cook! I’m not hungry actually, but I must stick to the gruelling schedule, or I can’t call myself anything.

  I mix a tablespoon of Dijon mustard, two tablespoons of double cream, a cup of grated Gruyère into a paste, spread it on my halibut and put the halibut in the oven at 200 degrees. I set my timer for twenty minutes. DO NOT OVERCOOK FISH! Then I toast the pine nuts, but burn them a little. HELP! Then I soak the raisins but for too long – they look like the wrinkled eyes of very small, very old animals, beavers maybe, or badgers. I taste my watercress soup having whizzed it through the new KitchenAid that I bought specially for this special week, and cheap at the price too in a way, less than a week on the Costa Brava, or nine nights in Morocco, which would have been nice since I love Moroccan food. No, here’s me, bravely à la Costa o Solo Mio, and soon when I am truly brilliant I will be certainly inviting people CHEZ moi and certainly will stun them with my big bold flavours and elegant presentation. Stand back from your bench! That watercress soup is so green, the greasy-haired one says. That is delicious, the fat-faced friendly one says. That green reminds you of allotments, childhood, it’s as fresh as spring. I’m getting that good iron. I mean, phwoar! Phwoar! I nod and look sage and try to hide my superior smile. I imagine the faces of the other contestants turning an envious green. Now for the main. Presentation could be better. That spinach is looking a bit sloppy and has left a trail of water on the plate. You’ve let yourself down! Flavour good. Could do with more seasoning. I’m getting the sweetness of the raisins, but “those pine nuts...” This fish, nice idea with the Welsh rarebit topping, but a bit of a waste of a lovely fish, halibut.

  I don’t agree with you, I say quietly. At this level, you need to be better. You are going home, Stef. Sorry. You’re going home. You don’t know what you’re talking about, I say again. You’re just a jumped-up pair of idiots. You wouldn’t know a good meal if it slapped you in the face. You don’t even like good food! Is it because I didn’t do snail porridge? Too right, I’m a bad loser! I feel myself being frogmarched round the kitchen. Someone shouts, Cut! Take her off set! I can hardly breathe. Some holiday this is for me. The stress! The tension! I’ve failed. I haven’t made the final. I haven’t realized my dream. I’m devastated. Gutted like a school of snapper. The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity has slipped through my fishing net. I see myself in the sad green room, not the dream room. I’m frank with the camera. There’s no way I’m stopping cooking, I say to the little light in my kitchen that is really the eye of the burglar alarm but could just as easily be the eye of the watching world. No way. I’ve got my dreams. I could still turn up trumps and deliver the goods. Then they’d be the ones with egg on their face, ketchup on their pants – tossers. Complete tossers. It’s always the men they pick. How come the men get to be chefs and the women get to be cooks? It’s a disgrace.

  I take out my fine bottle of whisky. Make that a double. I’ve just narrowly missed the finals, whatdya expect? I was that close. Give me a break. Is this you drowning your sorrows, Chef Stef? Too right it is. Get it down! Pear drops? Teardrops, more like. Crème brûlée? Cry baby. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My face looks like a summer pudding. I’ve got myself all upset. A voice whispers, You’ve one more chance. It doesn’t involve anyone but you. Let’s Cook. Come on, now, love. It’s a gentle voice, lovely, not my own. I think it sounds like the voice of my dead mother, but I can’t be sure because I’ve forgotten her voice. I wish I could remember her voice exactly. What was it like? Like fresh spring water babbling down the Fintry hills.

  It is four hours and three minutes since I last cooked, and five hours and ten minutes since I last walked the dog, and one hour and six minutes since I last had a snooze and now it is time to prove myself. My eyelids are swollen from crying, like little slugs. My face is all blotchy. But it’s not about looks, being a chef, only your food needs to look beautiful really. I get out my blue and white striped apron that I bought specially, but had forgotten buying. Silly me! I tie a knot, confidently. Lucky apron. For starters, pear fried in ground coriander with hazelnuts, rocket and Gorgonzola salad with a sherry dressing. For main: hake steak baked with an onion and lemon-rind confit, new potatoes with mint, green beans with tomatoes, garlic and basil. To finish: a chocolate soufflé with raspberries on the side, a shortbread biscuit, followed by a small whisky. Make that a double. Make it 73.32, The Scots Malt Whisky Society. Even though I don’t live in Scotland any more, I wouldn’t drink anything but Scottish whisky. Good malt is allowed for dessert. I say so, and it’s my rules. This is me here doing this right now. I’m methodical. I tidy as I go along. They’d be proud, but the hell with them. My presentation is a sensation, back of the net! and the idiots have missed it. Their loss! Everything is delicious. That is one plate of food, that is one plate of food. That fish is cooked to perfection. Perfect. Lovely, elegant dish. Well done! Phwoar! Phwoar! That is outstanding! The girl can cook. Well done! I put the fish skin in the bin, and start on the chocolate soufflé, rich, velvety, darkly enigmatic chocolate soufflé, seriously tart raspberries. Charming, absolutely delightful. I knock back the whisky. That is one cheeky wee whisky, inspired, absolutely, inspired and inspiring. Now that, that is almost alchemy! I mean like, wow!

I’m losing weight, and it’s a consolation. Bye-bye, junk food, cheerio, Big Mac! So long, French fries. It is falling off me. I don’t need to lie to the scales any more. I can sing to the scales instead. But something’s missing. I’m not a complete success story. Maybe because the dog’s diet has been a disaster and the dog is still fat? Or maybe, it’d be nice to have someone to cook for. My old friend Ali, what would she like to eat now? Maybe she’d prefer fish and chips to red mullet with lemon and bay? Maybe she’d love sea bream stuffed with fennel? I’m not sure. We were nineteen before we saw a corn on the cob. I was twenty-two before I tasted avocado. Didn’t think much of it in the beginning, but that was because I tried to eat the skin as well. Then I had a terrible time with an artichoke, not a Jerusalem artichoke but the kind that has a heart. I ate the heart but I ate the hair round the heart too, and coughed for a week.

  Maybe I could cook Ali my special Arabic chicken with pine nuts and saffron with a lemon pilaf and a green salad? I’d make sure I didn’t burn the pine nuts this time. What else? I can’t think. I can’t think of anything. I’m tired out thinking about what to eat. It’s exhausting. What a holiday! I’d have been better off trailing around the Vatican. At least I might have got to see the Pope.

  Next week I must go back to work and face the music. I don’t really like my work colleagues. They moan all the time, and they are intensely competitive. It is a whole culture of moaning. Anyway next week, holiday over, back to face the music. Do you want to know where that expression comes from? Someone sits and stares at the radio; someone else won’t take their eyes off the hi-fi; someone fixates on their piano until, what, until the music starts, and it lifts you, and lifts you some more, until finally you are not in your life at all, you’re in another life entirely. That’s what’s going to happen to me when I face the music. It’s going to be so different, so very, very fine. That is really going to happen to me. I’m like, can’t wait.

[brooklynfamilydivorcelaw]

Best Places to Eat in Brooklyn

Introduction

The best food in Brooklyn is as varied as the borough itself. When you're thinking about where to eat in Brooklyn, you'll want to make sure that the restaurant has that unique Brooklyn vibe. That's why we've put together a list of the best places to eat in Greenpoint, Sunset Park, and Chinatown. You'll also find restaurants that serve up great pizza and desserts along with burgers and shakes from one of our favorite neighborhoods: Park Slope!

Pizza in Greenpoint

L&B Spumoni Gardens:

The best pizza in Greenpoint is at L&B Spumoni Gardens, a historic Italian restaurant with a menu that includes everything from veal parmigiana to eggplant parmigiana. The pizza itself comes in classic NYC-style slices or whole pies and can be topped with everything from pepperoni to sausage to mushrooms. Be sure to save room for some of their famous cannoli!

Di Fara Pizza:

If you want the most authentic slice of New York City-style pizza in Greenpoint, head over to Di Fara Pizza where lines are long but worth it! They're open until midnight on weekdays and 1 am on weekends (so go early if you want yours fresh). You'll find classics like cheese or pepperoni on top of an airy crust at this local favorite--but don't forget about the specialty options like broccoli rabe pie (pictured above) or eggplant Parmesan! Paulie Gee's

Mexican Food in Sunset Park

If you're vegetarian, vegan, or have food allergies and are looking for some delicious Mexican food in Brooklyn, look no further than Sunset Park. This neighborhood is well known for its wide variety of restaurants that offer fresh ingredients and authentic dishes. Many restaurants in Sunset Park offer gluten-free options as well as other healthy choices such as salads and soups.

It's also worth noting that Sunset Park has one of the highest concentrations of Mexican-Americans in New York City--meaning it's home to some great authentic cuisine!

Dim Sum in Chinatown

Dim sum is a type of Chinese food, served in small bite-sized portions. It's traditionally served in bamboo baskets or steamer baskets, but you can also find it in deep-fried dough pockets.

Dim sum is often eaten for breakfast or brunch and usually consists of savory dishes such as dumplings, buns, pancakes, and other pastries along with sweet desserts like pastel de nata (custard tarts).

Pizza and Desserts in Red Hook

Carmine's

Barracuda

Salvatore Pizzeria (Get the Margherita)

Franny's (The pizzas are made in a wood-burning oven and have unique toppings, like eggplant and ricotta or gruyere cheese.)

Marco's Pizza (There are several locations around the city and they're open late!)

Pizza di Scarola (This place has a great selection of pies with fresh ingredients.) If you're looking for something different, try their broccoli rabe pizza--it won't disappoint!

Michal Zidkyahu, MA

Michal Zidkyahu, MA is the owner of St. John's Park Slope. He graduated from Harvard University in 2009 and has been running his restaurant for five years.

St. John's Park Slope has a variety of foods that will appeal to any palate: breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert! They also have beverages such as coffee and tea if you want something other than food!

St. John's Park Slope

St. John's Park Slope is the place to go for good food and a good atmosphere. It's great for groups, kids and birthdays, or any special occasion. The staff are friendly and accommodating, but don't be fooled: they know how to cook! The food here is delicious and reasonably priced--you can enjoy a three-course meal for $30 per person (not including drinks).

The interior is decorated with exposed brick walls, wooden floors, and hanging lights that give off a cozy vibe while still being bright enough to see your plate at night time. There are also large windows which let plenty of natural light in during the day so there's no need for dimming lamps or candles like other restaurants would do when being crowded by hungry patrons after 6 pm on weekdays when most people go home from work

Conclusion

If you're looking for a delicious meal in Brooklyn, these are some of the best places to eat. Whether you want pizza, burgers, or dim sum, there's something on this list that will satisfy your craving.

Gordon Law, P.C.

Gordon Law, P.C. is a family law firm in Brooklyn, NJ that helps clients with divorce and related issues. We serve clients all over the DFW metroplex and surrounding areas, including McKinney and Plano. is a Michigan divorce law firm that helps couples navigate the difficult waters of divorce. We know how stressful and confusing this process can be, which is why we make sure to provide clear answers, expert advice, and compassionate support along the way. is a law firm that has been serving the San Diego area for more than 30 years. We know what it means to be a family, and we understand how important your marriage is to you. We take that into consideration when we’re helping you with your divorce case—whether it's an amicable one or not. You may find us online using these keywords Divorce Lawyer Brooklyn, Family lawyer Brooklyn, Custody Lawyer Brooklyn, Custody Lawyer Brooklyn, and Child Lawyer Brooklyn.

Gordon Law, P.C.

32 Court St #404, Brooklyn, NY 11201, United States

347-378-9090

#custody lawyer brooklyn #divorce lawyer brooklyn #family lawyer brooklyn #child lawyer brooklyn #family divorce

[lmas-food-midterm]

Sweets and Desserts in Latin America/Mexico

Just as there are countless types and variations of savory food, there are a number of famous and diverse desserts across Latin America and Mexico as well. Here a just a few examples.

Tres Leches Cake: consists of different types of milk - condensed, evaporated and whole milk.

Dulce de Leche: while not a treat on its own, it is similar to a caramel sauce and used in many dessert recipes.

Churros: a long, fried pastry and rolled in cinnamon sugar; they can come in many flavors and be served with any sweet sauce.

Atol de Elote: a beverage made with sweet corn and milk

Buñuelos: a pastry similar to a donut

Helado de Canela: a cinnamon sorbet, where the cinnamon is boiled with sugar and food coloring

Flan: a custard/pudding dessert that uses evaporated and condensed milk, sometimes with a caramel or chocolate flavor.

(S.A.V.E.U.R., 2021)