#casablanca cookbook

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Um, this was incredibly simple and so, so amazing.

#casablanca cookbook #cookbook #ras el hanout #made the spice blend in the book and it's SO GOOD #soup #i realize no one follows me for cooking but #*points* #LOOK AT IT #food #cooking adventures

[ladythinks-blog]

I came across this at the library. I had just read an article about the making of Casablanca when I saw it in the stacks, so I already knew this year is the 75th anniversary of the movie. It was a nice coincidence. The publisher writes - "The Casablanca Cook Book is a charming combination of Moroccan recipes and American wit.“ Easy-to-follow recipes that are actually good, “sprinkled with amusing trivia from the movie.” I watched the movie again and it’s as good as ever. 

#casablanca #humphrey bogart #ingrid bergman #cookbooks #film #classic film #cocktails #moroccan food #movie trivia #movietrivia

[ryanbarwick]

This Is Thunderblog

And on the second day of the fourth fifth week of the national pandemic, Ryan made a blog...

My friends,

I share this message humbly. We’re roughly five weeks into a pandemic that’s brought the funeral home below my apartment the best business it’s seen in years. 

As of now, everyone I know and love is safe, but that’s not the case for everyone. Despite the hum of social media and the unbroken sirens of emergency vehicles, it wasn’t until last week when I realized we’d run out of coffee grounds that my anxiety came to a full, rolling boil.

I don’t know yet how all of this’ll change us, but I’m sure tiny flecks of trauma will show itself when, in a decade, our children ask why we’ve got a gallon drum of hand sanitizer in the garage or shelves of dry pasta in the basement.

That is to say we’re (obviously) all in this together and the sea will (hopefully) get calmer the closer we get to the shore.

Outside of daily job as a #brands reporter, I, like everyone else, have filled most of my lockdown hours wading through youtube, cookbooks, pornography, twitter, pornography, and deciding whether I’m going to write that great American novel. 

While not that far from my typical weekday groove, the weekends and their same-ness have become a bit more of a chore. 

So, as a wannabe writer with a propensity towards hovering above Google docs, it was starting to get to me that I’d be leaving the craters of our own apocalypse with only a few Civil War textbooks under my belt.

And yes, I subscribe to the theory that the need to feel productive (during a plague, no less) is one of the more milder cancers chewing through our country. I don’t believe I have to create something so much as I think it’d be a fun thing to share with you.

 So, this is Thunderblog. I’m going to watch every James Bond movie, for the first time, and write an essay for each. The plan, as of now, is to watch everything in chronological order. Some of these essays will be reviewed, but hopefully some more stuff will pop-up along the way.

Why Bond? Well, why the hell not? 

As much as I’d like to be, I don’t consider myself a movie guy. I’ve seen most of the classics but there are glaring blindspots. 

Big Trouble in Litle China? Nope. Heat? Slept through it. Casablanca? Please.  Granted, instead of just landing on a specific franchise, I could have just ran down the Criterion collection, but what's the fun in that? Those are all (supposedly) bangers and writing 100 fawning essays isn’t fun for anyone. 

So, Bond it is. 

Outside of a viewing of Casino Royale when I was 12, I know nothing about the series. They’re supposed to be good! Worldwide, they’ve made billions. They also span more than 58 years of cultural history, six actors, and everything between Wings and (old) Madonna. 

The 25th film was set to premiere this month before the release date was scrapped because of the shit you read about in the first couple of paragraphs.

He’s also the proto-male archetype, shooting and fucking his way across the globe, foiling communists and *checks notes* reinforcing the shadowy aspects of neoliberal foreign policy and government sponsored killing that has, um, soured over the last decade.

On paper, while I’m sure he’s a pleasure to drink with, James ain’t a great guy. I expect to chart this agro-male evolution, how the character has changed and evolved through the years.

So, some things. 

Excluding the first three that I binged about a week ago, kicking off this whole thing, I’ll be viewing each with fresh eyes. No phone, with only the google doc open on my laptop. I’ll be properly bored, the way a film is supposed to be viewed.

For now, I’m going to focus on the 24 Bond movies, an essay for each. Will I veer outside of Bond, occasionally? Sure, I’ve never seen the Blues Brothers or Purple Rain. Seems like I should though, right? In those instances, I’ll be writing two essays that week.

I’d also like to clarify, this is not a newsletter. It’s a blog. I don’t want to promote this too much not that anyone would go out of their way to read. Hopefully, I won’t lose my job. You’ll be able to find this on my social stuff where I’ll be posting. And maybe occasionally emailing. 

Godspeed, Ryan

First up, Dr. No. Essay to Come Sunday.

[easyfoodnetwork]

A World Beyond Sourdough

Can’t find flour? Try Italy’s chickpea-based farinata | Getty Images

From tortillas to roti to farinata, what to make instead of sourdough for the 1,000th time

So yes, everyone’s making sourdough now. But those tangy loaves are just the tip of the baguette (sorry) when it comes to the millennia old tradition of breadmaking around the world. It seems the alchemy of transforming flour and water and some kind of leavening (or not, as in the case of flatbreads) is universally comforting, as evidenced by the gazillions of bread varieties that anchor meals virtually everywhere on the planet. These simple starches are also in many ways our most accessible gateway to other cuisines, familiar and often achievable without much in the way of special ingredients.

For me, baking up some farinata or steaming mantou has helped me remember a time not long ago when we could all travel freely — when I would spend days wandering foreign streets, following my nose into some local bakery to discover something warm and soothing in an unfamiliar place. Plus, while you can still buy classic sourdough almost anywhere in the country, finding Portuguese sweet bread and Moroccan msemen can be a lot harder. Here, then are a few recipes from around the world to help us break the monotony of breaking bread.

Tortillas

What you’ll need: masa harina or flour, fat, salt

The next time you make a pot of beans — which you are definitely doing — make some fresh tortillas to go with them. Beans and tortillas have been getting cozy since long before an avocado met a slice of toast, and they’re just as simple to make yourself. For corn tortillas, use fresh masa if you can find it, but masa harina, which is available in many supermarkets and online, also produces great results. Don’t have a tortilla press? Smoosh balls of dough under a cast iron or other heavy pan. For flour tortillas, you’ll need some kind of fat, be it lard, bacon fat, shortening, or oil. An ex and I used to roll these out with a metal pipe from the hardware store, as was the tradition in his Mexican household, but any rolling pin will do — the world is heavy enough as it is. Eating these hot off the pan reminds me less of Mexico City and more of the “El Machino” conveyor belt at Chevy’s that used to mesmerize me as a kid with its fresh, puffy circles long before Krispy Kreme.

Getty Images/EyeEm

Roti puffs up bubbly in a cast iron pan

Roti

What you’ll need: whole-wheat flour (pastry or AP), oil, salt

Though naan usually gets the spotlight, roti is the king of all Indian breads, says food writer and cookbook author Priya Krishna, for its versatility and sturdiness, something all of us could use a bit of now. It’s also extremely simple to make — it doesn’t require any leavening, and if you just knead it well and let it rest, it will puff up nicely in the hot pan. This recipe calls for atta, a finely ground whole wheat flour, but whole wheat pastry flour, regular whole wheat flour, or half whole wheat and half all purpose are all suitable substitutions.

Farinata

What you’ll need: chickpea flour, oil, salt

Ceci, or chickpeas, are a staple in Italy, and variations of the chickpea flour-based flatbread known as farinata exist throughout the country. The Genoese version, which goes by socca in Nice, not far from the Italian border, is a particularly popular local street food. It emerges from wood-fired ovens in big, round pans and is sliced into wedges — thin and crisp and fragrant with olive oil that seeps into the paper it’s wrapped in. All you need is chickpea flour and olive oil — I’ve been finding chickpea or garbanzo flour on supermarket shelves more often than flour these days, but if you have a ton of dried chickpeas, you can also try grinding them in a blender and sifting out the fine flour. I like eating farinata straight out of the oven and unadorned, but it also pairs well with caramelized onions or any kind of hard cheese grated over the top top while it’s still hot.

Getty Images/iStockphoto

Moroccan Msemen works with both sweet and savory preparations and cooks up on the stove-top

Msemen

What you’ll need: AP flour, semolina flour, sugar, yeast

“Follow the bread, wherever it takes you,” chef M’hammed Benali once told me. He was explaining why he first left Morocco and cooked in restaurants from Seattle to San Francisco before opening his own place, Casablanca, in Honolulu. Here, instead of providing utensils, he serves a round Moroccan flatbread to eat with — the feeling of the soft warm bread in the mouth is much preferable to cold metal forks, he insists. This same feeling is all over Morocco, where community ovens and griddles set up in the medinas to make all kinds of daily breads and flatbreads. Msemen, a yeasted bread layered with butter, is one of the most ubiquitous and my personal favorite. It lends itself to sweet breakfasts drizzled with honey or savory meals when stuffed with roasted vegetables and meats. Msemen requires both semolina flour and regular AP flour, and a good amount of oil and butter which are folded in like an abbreviated version of laminated croissant dough.

Pita

What you’ll need: AP flour, oil, yeast, salt

Pita is the most common bread throughout the Levant and as far as Egypt, says Anissa Helou in her book Feast, Food of the Islamic World. So central is it to the local culture, that “in Egyptian pita is called aysh — which means ‘life,’” she writes. Her recipe for pita bread comes out a little softer and thicker than what’s found in stores — it involves flour, yeast, and olive oil, as well some time (the dough rises twice). Once in the oven, the rounds inflate like balloons almost instantly — turn the oven light on to watch the spectacle. Tip: Place your baking sheet in the oven as it’s preheating for maximum puff.

Shutterstock

Portuguese sweet bread can be baked in all sorts of fun pull-apart shapes

Portuguese sweet bread by way of Kona, Hawai‘i

What you’ll need: AP flour, yeast, butter, sugar, eggs

This is a rich bread, like a decadent challah, brought to Hawai‘i by Portuguese laborers — the ones who came to Kona were known to be dairy farmers, which might explain the abundance of butter. On Hawai‘i Island, the Kona Historical Society still maintains an open-air, wood-fired stone oven that they light at 6 a.m. so that loaves emerge around 1 p.m., and where people are encouraged to gather throughout the process and talk story. It’s a reminder of the communal ovens that exist around the world, from Morocco to Hawai‘i — less of a commercial enterprise and more of a neighborhood resource that creates bonds like the gluten in well-kneaded bread. The Kona Historical Society’s recipe makes four loaves, but you can easily halve or quarter it — you’ll need yeast, flour (either bread flour or all purpose works), sugar, butter, and eggs, and about two hours of rising time.

Mantou

What you’ll need: AP flour, sugar, yeast, milk, oil

In northern China, wheat (not rice) is the most popular traditional starch, and mantou — steamed, unfilled and light and fluffy — is the region’s equivalent of sliced white bread. It’s an ideal accompaniment for any meal or even dessert, when it’s deep fried and dunked in sweetened condensed milk. This subtitled Mandarin-language YouTube recipe from Mun’s Flavor has a soothing ASMR-like quality and I found it way better than any English-language recipes — and then fell down the rabbit hole of Chinese YouTube videos on all the different varieties of Chinese steamed breads, some mesmerizingly intricate. I suggest you do the same.

Martha Cheng is a writer and editor based in Honolulu, Hawaii

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3c4F9FK https://ift.tt/2YNI027

Can’t find flour? Try Italy’s chickpea-based farinata | Getty Images

From tortillas to roti to farinata, what to make instead of sourdough for the 1,000th time

So yes, everyone’s making sourdough now. But those tangy loaves are just the tip of the baguette (sorry) when it comes to the millennia old tradition of breadmaking around the world. It seems the alchemy of transforming flour and water and some kind of leavening (or not, as in the case of flatbreads) is universally comforting, as evidenced by the gazillions of bread varieties that anchor meals virtually everywhere on the planet. These simple starches are also in many ways our most accessible gateway to other cuisines, familiar and often achievable without much in the way of special ingredients.

For me, baking up some farinata or steaming mantou has helped me remember a time not long ago when we could all travel freely — when I would spend days wandering foreign streets, following my nose into some local bakery to discover something warm and soothing in an unfamiliar place. Plus, while you can still buy classic sourdough almost anywhere in the country, finding Portuguese sweet bread and Moroccan msemen can be a lot harder. Here, then are a few recipes from around the world to help us break the monotony of breaking bread.

Tortillas

What you’ll need: masa harina or flour, fat, salt

The next time you make a pot of beans — which you are definitely doing — make some fresh tortillas to go with them. Beans and tortillas have been getting cozy since long before an avocado met a slice of toast, and they’re just as simple to make yourself. For corn tortillas, use fresh masa if you can find it, but masa harina, which is available in many supermarkets and online, also produces great results. Don’t have a tortilla press? Smoosh balls of dough under a cast iron or other heavy pan. For flour tortillas, you’ll need some kind of fat, be it lard, bacon fat, shortening, or oil. An ex and I used to roll these out with a metal pipe from the hardware store, as was the tradition in his Mexican household, but any rolling pin will do — the world is heavy enough as it is. Eating these hot off the pan reminds me less of Mexico City and more of the “El Machino” conveyor belt at Chevy’s that used to mesmerize me as a kid with its fresh, puffy circles long before Krispy Kreme.

Getty Images/EyeEm

Roti puffs up bubbly in a cast iron pan

Roti

What you’ll need: whole-wheat flour (pastry or AP), oil, salt

Though naan usually gets the spotlight, roti is the king of all Indian breads, says food writer and cookbook author Priya Krishna, for its versatility and sturdiness, something all of us could use a bit of now. It’s also extremely simple to make — it doesn’t require any leavening, and if you just knead it well and let it rest, it will puff up nicely in the hot pan. This recipe calls for atta, a finely ground whole wheat flour, but whole wheat pastry flour, regular whole wheat flour, or half whole wheat and half all purpose are all suitable substitutions.

Farinata

What you’ll need: chickpea flour, oil, salt

Ceci, or chickpeas, are a staple in Italy, and variations of the chickpea flour-based flatbread known as farinata exist throughout the country. The Genoese version, which goes by socca in Nice, not far from the Italian border, is a particularly popular local street food. It emerges from wood-fired ovens in big, round pans and is sliced into wedges — thin and crisp and fragrant with olive oil that seeps into the paper it’s wrapped in. All you need is chickpea flour and olive oil — I’ve been finding chickpea or garbanzo flour on supermarket shelves more often than flour these days, but if you have a ton of dried chickpeas, you can also try grinding them in a blender and sifting out the fine flour. I like eating farinata straight out of the oven and unadorned, but it also pairs well with caramelized onions or any kind of hard cheese grated over the top top while it’s still hot.

Getty Images/iStockphoto

Moroccan Msemen works with both sweet and savory preparations and cooks up on the stove-top

Msemen

What you’ll need: AP flour, semolina flour, sugar, yeast

“Follow the bread, wherever it takes you,” chef M’hammed Benali once told me. He was explaining why he first left Morocco and cooked in restaurants from Seattle to San Francisco before opening his own place, Casablanca, in Honolulu. Here, instead of providing utensils, he serves a round Moroccan flatbread to eat with — the feeling of the soft warm bread in the mouth is much preferable to cold metal forks, he insists. This same feeling is all over Morocco, where community ovens and griddles set up in the medinas to make all kinds of daily breads and flatbreads. Msemen, a yeasted bread layered with butter, is one of the most ubiquitous and my personal favorite. It lends itself to sweet breakfasts drizzled with honey or savory meals when stuffed with roasted vegetables and meats. Msemen requires both semolina flour and regular AP flour, and a good amount of oil and butter which are folded in like an abbreviated version of laminated croissant dough.

Pita

What you’ll need: AP flour, oil, yeast, salt

Pita is the most common bread throughout the Levant and as far as Egypt, says Anissa Helou in her book Feast, Food of the Islamic World. So central is it to the local culture, that “in Egyptian pita is called aysh — which means ‘life,’” she writes. Her recipe for pita bread comes out a little softer and thicker than what’s found in stores — it involves flour, yeast, and olive oil, as well some time (the dough rises twice). Once in the oven, the rounds inflate like balloons almost instantly — turn the oven light on to watch the spectacle. Tip: Place your baking sheet in the oven as it’s preheating for maximum puff.

Shutterstock

Portuguese sweet bread can be baked in all sorts of fun pull-apart shapes

Portuguese sweet bread by way of Kona, Hawai‘i

What you’ll need: AP flour, yeast, butter, sugar, eggs

This is a rich bread, like a decadent challah, brought to Hawai‘i by Portuguese laborers — the ones who came to Kona were known to be dairy farmers, which might explain the abundance of butter. On Hawai‘i Island, the Kona Historical Society still maintains an open-air, wood-fired stone oven that they light at 6 a.m. so that loaves emerge around 1 p.m., and where people are encouraged to gather throughout the process and talk story. It’s a reminder of the communal ovens that exist around the world, from Morocco to Hawai‘i — less of a commercial enterprise and more of a neighborhood resource that creates bonds like the gluten in well-kneaded bread. The Kona Historical Society’s recipe makes four loaves, but you can easily halve or quarter it — you’ll need yeast, flour (either bread flour or all purpose works), sugar, butter, and eggs, and about two hours of rising time.

Mantou

What you’ll need: AP flour, sugar, yeast, milk, oil

In northern China, wheat (not rice) is the most popular traditional starch, and mantou — steamed, unfilled and light and fluffy — is the region’s equivalent of sliced white bread. It’s an ideal accompaniment for any meal or even dessert, when it’s deep fried and dunked in sweetened condensed milk. This subtitled Mandarin-language YouTube recipe from Mun’s Flavor has a soothing ASMR-like quality and I found it way better than any English-language recipes — and then fell down the rabbit hole of Chinese YouTube videos on all the different varieties of Chinese steamed breads, some mesmerizingly intricate. I suggest you do the same.

Martha Cheng is a writer and editor based in Honolulu, Hawaii

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3c4F9FK via Blogger https://ift.tt/3foQJO0

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

[fatlmstore]

Meghan Markle's Best Maternity Style Moments

It's time to start the royal baby watch. Meghan Markle is expecting her first child with Prince Harry this spring — as soon as this month! — and therefore the Duchess of Sussex has seriously nailed her maternity style since announcing the pregnancy back in October. Here's the simplest of what the most recent royal has worn since revealing the large baby news.

 All Black March 19, 2019 — On an unannounced visit to New Zealand House in London, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex signed a book of condolences honoring the victims in Christchurch. She opted for an easy black coat and Boh Runga earrings were given to her by New Zealand's Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern for the solemn occasion. Designer Dress March 11, 2019 — Meghan Markle wore a fresh-off-the-runway search for the Commonwealth Day service at Westminster Abbey. Her chain-print Victoria Beckham dress appeared at London Fashion Week just a month earlier. The royal paired the cream ensemble —topped with a Jackie O-style pillbox hat — with a dark green clutch and stilettos. Emerald Coat March 11, 2019 — The Duchess of Sussex was positively glowing during a green Erdem ensemble at a Commonwealth Day Youth Event at Canada House in London. Besides the symbolic choice of a Canadian designer, the coat has another meaningful connection also, consistent with People. The black embellishments around the collar are called "Doria beaded rose embroidery," an equivalent name as Meghan's mother. Brocade Dress March 5, 2019 — It's pretty hard to outshine the splendid setting of Buckingham Palace, but the Duchess of Sussex looked stunning in an embellished metallic shift and white Amanda Wakeley coat at a palace reception marking the 50th anniversary of the investiture of the Prince of Wales. Powerful Red February 23, 2019 — For her arrival in Casablanca, Meghan's bespoke Valentino dress featured an especially meaningful color. Red symbolizes bravery, strength, and valor on Morocco's ensign, royal correspondent Omid Scobie revealed. Glam Heels February 7, 2019 — A slitted Givenchy skirt showcased the Duchess of Sussex's glitzy Aquazzura mules at the Endeavour Fund Awards. (This girl seriously knows the way to do a red carpet.) Floral Dress December 18, 2018 — The Duchess of Sussex visited the Royal Variety Charity wearing a Soia & Kyo Adelaida maxi coat over a printed Brock Collection dress. Her bespoke clutch is from Wilbur & Gussie. Maroon Coat November 21, 2018 — Meghan bundled up during a Club Monaco Daylina coat and an identical collared dress from an equivalent brand to go to the Hubb Community Kitchen in West London. The charity cookbook she contributed to raised enough funds to revamp the space and now keep the kitchen open seven days every week, Elle UK reports. Capped Sleeves November 11, 2018 — The Duchess of Sussex appeared at the annual Remembrance Day Service at The Cenotaph earlier that morning wearing a classy black coat and a velvet fascinator. Her poppy pin honors fallen soldiers. Meaningful Necklace October 31, 2018 — For a standard pōwhiri welcome ceremony, Meghan wore a necklace by Maori designer Kiri Nathan given as a present from New Zealand governor Patsy Reddy. Pounamu — a green stone only found on the South Island of latest Zealand — is typically a treasured heirloom or present meant to affirm a relationship, People reports.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Time Goes By

Royai Week Prompt:  Day 2 Black Tie

Title:  Time Goes By

Rating: Teen for Innuendo, Cursing, Flirty Hughes, 

Word Count: 12,319

Summary:   A Casablanca AU.   Roy runs his mother's bar in the town closest to the border when a face from his past comes back to remind him of the heartbreak that drove him to the end of the world to  forget. (Or end of the train line, w/e)

AN: Picked up this WIP of mine for the prompt Black Tie because Mustang's Bar is a classy establishment like that and 'Yes Please' on one order of Roy Mustang in formal attire.   The song is from Hagaren Song File called “Shounen yo, shinjiru nakama yo”.  

xxxxxxxx

Roy Mustang stood outside Mustang's Bar and watched the storms roll in from the west.  The starry night sky would soon be covered by the dark clouds and the streets of Casablanca would be running like a river from the rain, but for now the storm was beautiful.  Lighting crackling in the heavens, thunder echoing in the distance and another night of sin and scandal coming to life in the bar behind him.

He once dreamed of a different life, one of a hero.   His greatest dream was to serve his country and dedicate his life to the military.  He thought it was a noble cause. He had been a fool.   He saw the light now, he saw the truth, that the only way to change things was by not playing by the rules.   If he truly wanted to change things, it would not be in some damned stiff uniform, but with a stiff drink and without some one sided loyalty to country or Fuhrer.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope he was holding for a local official, a Lieutenant Yoki.  Just another shining example of the kind of military protection the government provided for it's citizens.  Yoki lined his own pockets at the expense of local miners who provided the military with coal at a fraction of what it was worth.   He didn't feel bad for charging him a hefty sum for protecting this little envelope for him, what bothered him was that Yoki didn't even haggle.

What was contained within this simple brown envelope were the most precious of documents at this time in Amestris's history: travel papers.   The government was using the current political turmoil in places like Liore, a serial killer in Central and terrorists in East City to explain a need for these ridiculous travel papers.  Border patrols were heightened, what once used to be open borders out of the country became a selective exit for anyone wishing to travel.   There was a myraid of reasons, it was confirmed that Aerugo had supplied arms to the Ishvalians during the war, Creta was rumored to be cultivating alchemists, Drachma was still a frozen shithole but seemed to be gearing up for another push to Briggs and the country was 'protecting itself' by locking the exits.   Suddenly Amestris worried that threats could be coming from within, leaks in the form of funds and information, and it was being incredibly difficult to leave.  Of course, it was all for the safety and security of Amestrians.   Of course.

It's how places like Casablanca became havens for smuggling and miscreants.   The end of the line, of the railroad that is, and most who traveled South found themselves held up here for days while background checks were done.   Unless, of course, they had travel papers.  It was a pre-approval, it was someone much higher up the chain of command giving the go for travelers to go beyond the border.   Merchants, diplomats, military personnel, everyone who had access would not be hassled.  People who paid, people who put up collateral, people who showed their loyalty to the country, were allowed free-passage.   Paper, had become more valuable than gold.  

Roy lifted his head as the rains started and went inside to prepare for a busy night.  He went through the kitchen an placed the envelope in a cookbook and went down the hall to his office.  Along the way the wiped a few rain drops off the lapel of his tux with a kitchen towel and toyed with the tie around his neck in preparation to loop it into a proper bow.  He walked into his office to use the mirror and rolled his eyes as he saw who was waiting.  “What do you want Hughes?”

“Hey Roy!” Police Chief Maes Hughes sat on Roy's desk and read through the late edition of the Central Times that had arrived on the last train for the day.   “Ever hear of a guy names Lazlo?”

“Who hasn't? The damned reward posters are all over town.”  Roy said and walked over to his desk and sat down, ready to play this game with Hughes like they always did.  He didn’t bother with the tie, Hughes could be here for two minutes or two hours depending on his mood.   They were on opposites sides of the law but it didn't seem to dissuade Hughes from spending a lot of time at the bar or simply spending his slow nights talking to Roy.   “Lazlo, the scientist with the answer to end the war...all wars.  Missing, kidnapped or trying to escape, who knows?  Reward for his capture makes me believe he's doing so of his own accord, but the way those posters are worded it makes it sound like a public service no matter what.   'Apprehension' sounds so vague.”

“Lazlo needs to leave the country and he needs papers to do so.  Nothing vague about that.”  Hughes said and refilled his drink from the bottle on Roy's desk.    “No matter his reasons for leaving.  Military seems to believe he's coming here and you're the first one I thought I would ask.”

“Why would I help him?  Or am I helping you?”  Roy asked and leaned back in his chair as Hughes leisurely sat on his desk swinging his leg and helping himself to his private stash of  bourbon.   “I'm apprehensive about doing the military any more favors in my lifetime.  They can find their own damned rogue scientists.  I'm not their dog anymore.”

“Perhaps it's less of a public service and more personal gain?” Hughes said.  “He's got to know papers will cost him, you tend to deal in rare items like that.”  

“Where would I get official documents like that?” Roy asked.  Always a game with Hughes.   Always.

“You tend to like your lost causes and underdogs.”  Hughes set a shot glass in front of Roy and then refilled his own.  “You also tend to get involved in conspiracies like this by nature of your business.”

“I run a bar.  My Mom's bar.”  Roy said and lifted the glass and looked up at Hughes.  “I'm also not hiring you as a bartender after you get fired for your shitty investigation techniques if you can't figure out how to fill these glasses with equal amounts of booze.”

Hughes's glass was almost overfilling, almost.  He carefully slurped some bourbon off the top before throwing the rest into his mouth.   He watched Roy's eyes the entire time trying to see if he was hiding anything.  “I walked in today and was shocked,  shocked, that this establishment was hosting some form of illegal gambling.  I mean once you open the doors to that then it becomes known that you will deal in just about anything. Like smuggling or travel documents.”

Roy smirked.  Hughes's sarcastic comments got louder the more he drank.   Roy picked up a brown envelope off the desk and held it up in front of his face.  “By the way, here are your winnings.”

Hughes grinned and set the glass down to take the envelope.  “Got a wife and kid to feed.”

Roy studied the man sitting on his desk and lifted his glass and observed. “It's half full.”

“See you're a 'half full' kinda guy.” Hughes replied.  “Which is why you would help this Lazlo guy escape.  So he could maybe change the world.  Stop the next war.   Get back to his family.”

Roy cocked his head.   “Must you dance around this topic all night?  I do have to open for business eventually.”

“I am an incredible dancer.”

“You dance like you borrowed your body and haven't figured out how to use it yet.”  Roy countered.

“You bitter asshole, someday you're going to fall in love and get yourself a wife and then you won't be able to resist going out and making a fool of yourself with her.” Hughes snorted and to his surprise he saw a  flicker of sadness in Roy's eyes.   There had been someone.  

“You're already taken.”  Roy said and puckered up and blew a kiss before drinking his half-shot of bourbon.  

“Speaking of wives, Lazlo is rumored to be traveling with someone.  I don't think it's too much of a leap to assume it's his wife.”  Hughes said.  

“Don't you have people that you work with that you should be discussing this with?”  Roy asked and set the shot glass down.   “I'm running the local gambling and drinking establishment that you suspect of being a haven of illegal dealings and operations.   Why are you bothering me with this? You're the police chief.”

“It's good for business to cooperate with the local police.”  Hughes smiled.

“Maybe you should go back to work so I can start doing my job.” Roy stood up and  Hughes leaned towards him.

“Everyone is looking for Lazlo. Everyone.   Be careful with this one Roy, you have no idea how far up the chain this goes.   I'm not asking you to turn him in, just turn him away.”  Hughes said.  “Not that I'm suggesting you have anything he wants, but you tend to broker and mitigate transactions like that.   I would imagine your reputation in doing so would send people here to ask first.”

“From what you're saying, I'm the only one who can help.”  Roy saw Hughes wink before jumping off his desk and straightening out his uniform.   “So I might as well sign his death certificate before delivering him to you.  I hear there's a reward too.”

“We both know you won't do that.   You soft-hearted bastard.”  Hughes picked up his hat off the desk and lowered his voice.  “Just...be careful.  I don't want you mixed up in this one.  I'm off to investigate a murder, a Lieutenant Yoki who has been a patron of yours.   I'd hate to have to see you under a sheet like that someday.”

“Does your wife know you think about seeing me under sheets?”  Roy asked and straightened out his loose tie to prepare for the evening.  He looked down to make sure it was even and digest the news that Yoki got himself killed over those damned papers he was currently in possession of.  

“Looking like that, who doesn’t think about you under the sheets?”  Hughes grinned and then his smile vanished and his face became purely professional.  “I'm serious, be careful.  The military is dead serious about this one.”

“I don't have any damned papers.   They have no reason to come to me.”

“Have a good night, Roy.”  Hughes said and put his hat on.  

Roy watched him leave then turned to his mirror and tied his bow tie.   So much for being a neutral party here. Yoki had come in last night, panicked and looking to 'store' them somewhere for a small fee and he thought the excitement was just the value of the illegal documents not someone on his tail.   At least he got payment up front as now Yoki was dead and Hughes was trying to find where those damned papers were.  

He sighed heavily as he looked at himself in the mirror wearing a tux and a black tie, looking like he should be going to a formal affair with a beautiful woman draped on his arm.  Maybe in a different lifetime, tonight it was all business.  He shook his head as thunder clapped and the storm clouds let loose, he always did enjoy the storm even if he hated the rain.

Xxxx

As the rain came pouring down outside the patrons of Mustang's Bar paid little heed to the lightning or thunder outside the establishment.   The place was packed, the rain being great for business, even the individuals not interested in drinks or dinner were having to place orders in order to avoid being thrown out for loitering.   It wasn't an issue for the woman in the traveling suit at the door as she made her way to the lounge to find a seat.   She didn't go without notice.

“Miss Riza?”  Catherine lit up and went over to hug the woman she never thought she would see again.   “Is it really you?”

“Yes, Catherine.”  Riza felt her rib cage scream as Catherine hugged with all the power of the Armstrong family.  “How are you doing?  Is that a wedding ring on your finger?”

“Great!   Oh my God, remember Jean?” Catherine grinned and showed her her wedding ring.   “We got married last year!  He works for Roy now and I get to play here instead of those stuffy pretentious music halls.  I love it!”

“Married?”  Riza said and sure enough there was a ring on her finger.   She never thought Jean would make it past the first date, but good for him.  “Congratulations!”

“He took off his shirt to help me move the piano and I just...was smitten.”  She said and sat back down at the piano.  “He's amazing.  I had no idea he was hiding that body under his shirt.   I love a man who can really take care of himself, you know?”

Riza didn't understand the Armstrong family at all but she wasn't going to admit that.   Havoc was probably still shocked by it.   He seemed resigned to just flirting with her and working the bar for Roy, but something clearly changed. Good for him.   “How's Roy?”

“Still keeps himself in shape.  I think it's because he doesn't sleep and needs something to do.   Nice abs, but no where near the broad shoulders and muscle mass of Jean. Plus, he's short.”  Catherine said and then looked at her.  “Oh, you mean is he married?”

“I...”  Riza wasn't sure what she really wanted to know.  “Is he well?”

“Well he's OK.”  Catherine said.   “For an alcoholic.”

Riza could hear her change in voice. “You want me to leave him alone?”

“You broke his heart Miss Riza.” Catherine said.   “I'm sure you had your reasons...but you didn't have to see what it did to him.   So...I'm glad you're alive but you made your choice.”

“I did.”  Riza said and toyed with the small candle on the table.  

“He's not here.”  Catherine said and did her best to cover for the man she knew would shatter if he set eyes on Riza Hawkeye one more time.  “It's good seeing you but....you know how Madam gets about non-paying customers.”

Riza nodded.   Her reaction was understandable and she knew she was probably lying.  Roy didn't have anywhere else to go and he wanted to work himself to death, so there was no reason he wouldn't be here on a busy night like this.   She wished she didn't have to see him, but she was left with no choice.   So she pulled out a little bit of money and put it in Catherine's tip jar and said, “Just one song before I leave?”

“I can do that.” Catherine said and saw the sad smile.  “Just not that one.”

“Please?  Play it Catherine.”  Riza said softly.  She knew it would draw him out and that was the only way she would ever see Roy Mustang again.   This song, as cruel as it was.   “Play it for me.  If Roy's not here, than what difference does it make?”

She realized she had been played, but there was a chance if she played softly he wouldn't hear over the noise of the crowd.   Catherine wished she couldn't remember that night so easily, Riza and Riza dancing as he sang to her.   Madam dimming the lights so everyone only saw them on the dance floor, lost in each others smiles and eyes.   Roy singing like he used to, with a voice that would melt anyone who heard it.   The entire bar stopped to listen and watch as two people fell in love.   Then furlough was over and they went back to war.   Eventually Roy came home, broken and without the woman he fell in love with.  Things were never the same.

“Please?   I...just need to hear it one last time.”  Riza said and felt herself get misty eyed.  “I'll leave after.”

Catherine grudgingly laid her fingers on the keys and started to play that song from that night that seemed a lifetime ago.  That song that she hadn't played since.   The patrons went about their business not knowing the significance of the song but she could feel Jean's eyes on her from the bar.  

“Sing it?”  She asked.  The song was something she had once and not heard since.  It was  something Roy had written.   She could see Catherine struggling with it but eventually she closed her eyes and her voice filled the bar.

“Sometimes there are days one has to go....”  Catherine hadn't though about the words to  this song in years.  And now she wondered if it was an explanation from Riza as to why she left Roy.  “Turning his back on what is precious...”

Riza could feel the lump in her throat as she heard the words.   It wasn't Roy's voice but she could still hear it in his.  Feel him close to her, singing softly in a private serenade as they danced too close in front of all those people.

“Men are sad creatures, huh?” Catherine's voice got a little louder, it was hard to not get into singing the song.   Roy wasn't out here, he'd never have to know. This song he wrote, seemed so personal now.  He wrote it while he was at war.   He wrote it to express himself and try to remain human in an inhuman situation.   “Dragging weight that can't be extinguished on their backs.”

Riza blinked, her eyes were getting damp.   They had talked about what they had done, about the weight of their actions.   They had found each other during the worst time in their lives and he had shown her the light of hope at the end of it all.   He understood they could never made amends for what they did, understood when she said they would carry the dead on their backs forever.  

“Boy, embrace your ambition...” Catherine's voice carried.  No going back now.  She could feel the passion and pain of the songwriter and wanted to understand him better.    “If you possess darkness in your right hand.....and dreams in your left hand...”

Fools.  Naive idiots thinking they could protect people.  Thinking they were doing the right thing when all they were doing was killing people for a government that never cared about right or wrong.   And him, the dreamer.  The dream still existed in him, he wanted to change things.  Roy Mustang hadn't lost himself entirely and that was why she was so drawn to him.  A humble hero and a battered idealist, but not a broken man.   Not until....she broke him.

“ My Train in rain is the vision waving its hand Time goes by a memory of that person?

Drown out the screams”

Roy walked into the bar from the back room and was met with the chorus of a song he wrote, a song he never wanted to hear again.  Enraged he stormed over to the piano immediately and slammed his hand down on it and hissed.  “God dammit I told you to never play that again.”

Catherine stopped immediately and watched his face change as he looked past her to see Riza.  Then his anger melted away and all she saw was pain.   She got up and pushed her stool in to retreat to the bar where Jean was waiting.  

Riza couldn't believe how he still took her breath away, how he could still stir in her the emotions that made her stomach tighten and heart pound.   He was breathtaking in his formal wear, Madam always ran a classy establishment.   She couldn't even blink away the tears forming in her eyes, fearing he would vanish if she took her eyes off him for a second.  

Roy stared at her, the last person he thought he would see again.   Riza Hawkeye's beautiful face haunted him every night as he reached out for her and she vanished into thin air.   He never forgot a detail about her, not her big brown eyes welling up with tears or the way her lips pursed when she was trying to be strong.  It was the Riza he fell in love with, the one struggling to keep herself together despite the damned world trying to destroy her.   He fell in love with her strength and here she was, strong enough to sit in his bar and have that damned song played for her.

“Well Miss Hawkeye! It looks like you found Roy after all!”

Hughes.   King of perfect timing.   Roy took a deep breath and composed himself.  Hughes didn't need to know his weakness.  They were rivals not friends, despite their cozy arrangement.   “I'm not a hard man to find.”

Hughes slapped Roy in the shoulder. “All the same, I thought I should be as helpful as possible when  a pretty lady was looking for you.”

“Hardly a mystery when we're standing in 'Mustang's Bar'.”  Roy countered and feeling confident his emotions were in check he turned to Hughes.  

“I appreciate your help, Chief Hughes.”  Riza said and could see Roy was on the defensive now.   She wasn't upset, she wasn't here to try to take advantage of him, she just knew it would be harder to talk when he was guarded.  

“Perhaps I can get you two a drink?” Hughes asked and Roy continued to give him that 'Fuck off' glare.

“You don't work here.” Roy growled.

“I work for the people of this fine town, you happen to be one of them.”  Hughes winked.  He turned and stole a wine bottle off another couple's table and sat it down on theirs.   Then he swiped some glasses off  a passing waitress's tray and sat them all down on the table.   “You know Roy, she was asking about you earlier in a way that kinda...made me a little jealous.”

“Well consider your duty fulfilled.” Roy said dryly.  “I'll recommend you for promotion.”

“Sit.”  Hughes said and shoved Roy into a chair and then grabbed the wine bottle and pulled his army knife out of his pocket.  He flicked open the corkscrew and then twisted it into the cork.  With a wink at Hawkeye he popped the cork and then grinned.  “Isn't he thoughtful?”

“Yes, he is.”  Riza said and watched the wine fill the glass.  

“There you go again, saying things like you already know him.” Hughes  leaned on Roy's shoulder to prevent him from getting up.

“We met during the war.”  Riza said.

“Really?”  Hughes said.    “Please share details.  Was he strapping in his uniform?  Any facial hair?”

“Who can remember?”  Roy said and considered elbowing Hughes in the crotch.  “It was a long time ago. Time goes by.”

“I remember all the details.”  She said.  “The smell of smoke in your uniform, the way you had to shake the sand out of your gloves and the way the sand would fall out of your hair when you ran your hand through it.   I remember all of it.”

“You were a sniper.  Studying details were your specialty.”  He said and tried to not look in her eyes, but couldn't resist a glance.   Did the memories pain her like they did him?

“This is why you're not married.” Hughes whispered and squeezed Roy's shoulder.  

“I'm not married because the girl I proposed to left me standing at the train station waiting for her. With nothing but a coded message delivered by some obnoxious blond boy.”  Roy said bitterly.   “I suppose it's all a lot easier to do from a distance, isn't it?”

Hughes was surprised by that and let his hand fall from Roy's shoulder.   Roy stood up and offered him his seat.

“Enjoy your drinks, put them on my tab.  I have a bar to run.”  Roy got up and turned around, he wasn't going to do this here and now.  He was too bitter, too hurt and too eager to lash out.   How loved her, still loved her and always would love her, this was not the way he wanted to treat her.

Riza bit her lip as he turned his back to her and walked away.   Tears begged to fall from her eyes but she took every ounce of self restrain she had to force them to stay where they were.   “I should be going.”

Hughes stood there with his wine bottle and watched them go their separate ways.  Odd that she show up now just as this hunt was on for travel documents and a famous man named Lazlo.   He set the bottle back down on the table he took it off of and then set the glasses beside the plates.  The couple dancing or gambling in the back room would never know it had been opened for someone else.  

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“We're closed.”  Havoc leaned on the door and lit his cigarette as he eyed Riza coming towards the entrance.   They were done for the night but it appeared that someone was not.

“I know I'm not welcome...”  She said and Havoc brought his cigarette to life and held up a finger.

“Riza, you were the most welcome person...”  He blew some smoke in the air as he thought about that night in the past when they all had been so damned happy. “We saw the war change him and then he brought you home with him and he was alive again.  We all welcomed that, we welcomed you and you never came.  We welcomed you with open arms.”

She looked away.   “I need to talk to him.”

“A little late for that, but go ahead.”  Havoc walked a few steps and cleared a path to the door.  

Riza walked into the dark bar and saw him wiping down a table.   She let the door close behind her and studied him as he was now stripped down to just his shirt with rolled up sleeves for closing duties.  He looked thin.  He looked lost in his task.   “Roy?”

He stopped buffing the table and leaned on the rag and contemplated his next move.  He wanted to tell her to leave but he also wanted an answer.   “What did you come here for? I know it wasn't for me.”

All business.  Professional.   He wasn't in the mood for anything else.  “I came here to meet Yoki, he had papers I was going to purchase.  Travel papers.”

Roy stood up and threw the rag across the dining area so it landed somewhere behind the bar.  “Why am I not surprised?  You...are only interested in leaving.”

He was hurt and she hated that she had done this to him.   Hated that she couldn't make it better.  “Roy...”

“Tell me the truth, Riza.”  He said and walked over to her.  God, she still was so beautiful. Even in the dimmest light he could still see her features.   “Is this for Lazlo?  I can't help but see this as more than coincidence,  you showing up just as everyone is looking for him.”

“Yes.”  She replied.

“Ah.”  He said.  He kind of hoped she would lie.   “So the famous Lazlo who has this incredible weapon who could end the war...was he the reason you left me standing on that train platform with my heart in my hand? “

“Yes.”  She replied and closed her eyes.  “You have to know that I loved you.  You know what we shared was genuine.”

“Then what the hell happened?”  He asked.  “Because you spend a war being merciful with your shots, making sure your prey doesn't suffer, and you left me bleeding out in the worst pain imaginable waiting for you.”

“I thought he was dead.”  She said.  “I thought he was dead or I would have never let things develop between you and I.   When the war was over I heard he was still alive, being kept hostage by the government for his research.   I had one opportunity to save him and unfortunately it came at the time when a train was leaving in one direction for him and the other direction with you.”

“And now you want to leave again with him...but you need my help.” Roy shook his head.   “He's a lucky man, I suppose he should try that luck of his in obtaining his papers himself.”

“Roy, I never wanted things to turn out this way.  I loved you and I still do.”  She wanted to reach out and touch him but it would make things so much harder to leave. “We talked about our goals and responsibilities and unfortunately mine take me away from you.  I can't tell you more because I am trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?”  He asked.   “We were supposed to watch each others backs and now you're telling me that I can't even know the truth because you're trying to protect me?”

“Lazlo's research taints everyone who comes close to it.   It's dangerous and I don't want you knowing anything about it.”  She said and finally grabbed his arm.  “Even if I hurt you it means you are still alive to be hurt.   Wounded, but alive.”

“If he wants the papers he can talk to me himself.”  He closed his eyes as she let go of his arm.  He opened them and she looked horrified at the mere thought of that.   “Make sure he knows the extents you are willing to go to protect the people you love.”

She watched him walk over and hold the door open for her.   Reluctantly she left and wondered exactly what she was going to have to do to get those papers from him because meeting Lazlo was not an option.

Roy went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of something potent, something that would certainly be more painful in the morning than seeing her again.  He chose the moonshine Havoc's family made and sat down at the bar with it.   He poured a drink, trying to stop thinking about the nights when they laid in each other's arms or the plans they made with each other went the war was over.  

Then another when he thought about the feel of her chapped lips on his and the way her skin felt on his body as she peeled back his uniform and ran her calloused hands over his chest.

Another glass vanished when he remembered how her back arched when his own lips traveled down neck, placing kisses along the way, and finally licking and nipping his way around her breast.

The memories only slowed down as the alcohol took a hold of him, and he spilled a little on the bar top he just cleaned.  Then a hand reached out and wiped it up.  “Of all the bars in all the world, she had to walk into mine.”  

“You're had enough.”  Chris said and capped the bottle.  “Enough drinking over her.  Roy-Boy, you're not the first man to have his heart broke or to cry about it over this bar.   Or have a song bring up a painful memory.”

“You...going to throw me out?”  He asked with amusement.  “Better yet you should call Hughes and he can throw me in jail for the night.  He can torture me with the knowledge I hand delivered to him this evening.  It's OK, he admitted he really wants to see me under some sheets.”

“Roy-Boy, I need you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”  She said and ruffled his hair.  “You're letting the past get the better of you.”

“I asked her to marry me.   I told her we'd get on that train and leave the war behind us.  Asked her to marry me as soon as possible, in the first town we came to...whatever it may be.  I waited on that train platform for her and she never showed.  I got a note, coded like the ones we used to send to each other on the front, and I knew it was her leaving not in danger.” It sounded so much worse when vocalized.  It sounded so cliché.   He was such an idiot.  

“I'll throw her ass out on the curb next time I see her in my bar.”

“Mom.”  Roy said and put his head on the bar.   Memories of a brief term of happiness in his life continued to play through his head, their song playing in the background.  A song he wrote and shared with her. “All this time I wanted answers as to why she left me, why I wasn't good enough, what I did.  I guess I need her to show me so I can stop looking back.  I want the truth.”

“You're not going to find it in this.”  Chris said and shook the mostly empty bottle.  “You're not going to get it out of her either if she's just using you to get what she wants.”

“The thing is, I...think I like the pain now.  It's what I associate with her.“  He snorted.  That sounded so pathetic and here he was telling it to his Mom.

“God Roy, go to bed.”  Chris said and flipped off the lights and started to walk away.

“Can...you play it for me?”  He asked.  His Mom had been a vaudeville singer in her day, before the cigarettes took their toll on her voice.  She still played the piano and coached singers.  Hence his own musical talents and also Catherine's continued interest in this bar.  Here in this shithole, the once famous Madam Christmas was wasting her talent pouring drinks and listening to pathetic assholes like him whine about broken hearts.   She deserved better.

“No.”

“I want to sing.”  He said.  “I try to play drunk and you'll wring my neck for playing bad.”

“I'll wring that girls neck for doing this to you.”  Chris sat down at the piano and cracked her knuckles.   “What did she want?”

“To leave the country.”  Roy said then clarified.  “To get Lazlo out.   She needs papers.   I have them.”

“Give them to her and get rid of them both.”  Chris said and began to play his damned song.  A beautiful piece he wrote as therapy during those long, cold nights in the desert.  A song that had given them all hope when he unveiled it for them during furlough.  Damn that girl for doing this to him.

“Who the hell is Lazlo?”  Roy said. “I know of him, he's famous for his research and weapon that can end the war.  I guess my dream of changing things was going to take too long.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Hughes gave Roy's shoulder a squeeze as he sat down on his desk.   “Sorry I interrupted your awkward reunion last night.”

“No you're not.  You wanted to know who she was and also see if you could learn more about me.  I'm sure you'll bring this up again next time we play poker.”  Roy leaned back in his chair as Hughes made himself comfortable on his desk and poured a drink for himself.  This was becoming a ritual he was starting to look forward to: The Chief of Police coming in around noon to poke around for information and steal his top shelf bourbon under the guise of some tentative friendship.  He liked Hughes.   He was the sort of opponent you wanted across from you in a chess game, one that would see though your moves but never let on he knew a damned thing about the game.  The kind of man who made you smarter and more aware of your own tells, Hughes kept him from growing complacent.  

“No way!  It will piss you off and you're impossible to beat when you're angry.”  Hughes grinned.   “You know that I've always been interested in your past.  You're the most intriguing and potentially dangerous man in this town and I know nothing about you, which is an affront to my professionalism.”

“You make it sound like you're writing a romance novel about me.”  Roy said as Hughes actually handed him a shot glass filled precisely with the correct amount of liquid.   It was done on purpose, Hughes now elevated him to an equal.   He saw Hughes's eyes just as he noted the unspoken gesture, appreciation for his own quick assessment of it, just before he tilted his head perfectly to catch a reflection off the light on his glasses and go back into hiding.   “Question is, who is the protagonist in this scandalous novel of yours?  You?”

Hughes flashed a grin.  “I do look fabulous in white.”

“I have to agree.”  Roy said and drank his shot and set it down.   “I think your wife might shoot me if I try to steal you away from her and I honestly don't share well.”

“I need back story, Major Mustang. So tell me, my handsome war hero, why did you go to war?”

“See the world.”  Roy said and saw the bottle tip over his shot glass again. “I heard they had some sights in Ishval.”

“It was a desert.” Hughes said with a smirk.  Roy never ceased to amuse him.

“I was misinformed.”  Roy shrugged.  “You were there too, Captain.   What did you fight for?”

“My life.”  Hughes answered honestly.   “I just wanted to stay alive.”

“So, as one veteran to another...” Roy said and looked at Hughes so he could see his eyes clearly, he was not trying to hide them from him now.   “When you hear that this man Lazlo is going to make a weapon to end all wars, what do you think?”

“I think we already fought a war to end all wars and that was the biggest line of bullshit I had ever heard in my life.  However I was a fool, a romantic fool, who thought I could protect my country.”  Hughes raised his own glass in a toast to a fellow soldier.   Roy clinked against it and they held the glasses higher in a salute and then drank; Drank to surviving and drank to forget.

“So, who the hell is Lazlo?”  Roy asked.   “Is he real?  Is his research real?  Is he selling that research to someone else?”

“Nobody knows what he looks like.” Hughes sighed.  “Except maybe your girlfriend.”

“What are your orders Hughes?”  Roy asked.   “I know there is a reward for Lazlo, I have seen the posters, but we both know our government will print whatever they want.   Allegedly he's escaped with their research, but we both know that that probably means he escaped and he is the research.”

“All I know is what they want me to know.”  Hughes said.

“Which is?”

“Lazlo is on the run and the information he has is Amestrian property.  He must be captured alive.”  Hughes repeated his orders.   “He is being aided by sympathizers and those individuals may be eliminated if necessary. Now he's rumored to be here, the end of the line, and he needs papers to get into Aerugo.  We have him cornered...until those papers materialize and he vanishes across the border with research that could give our enemy the edge over us.”

“Sounds like another bullshit reason for war.”  Roy said.  

“We've heard them all at this point.” Hughes agreed.   “If he escapes, Amestris goes into Aerugo to find him before he can hand them his weapon.”

“This is beginning to sound more and more like a novel with a bad ending.”  Roy said.  “Especially since nobody knows what this guy even looks like.”

“Except your girlfriend.”  Hughes reminded him.  

“She left me for him, why do you think she'd betray him now?”  Roy asked and Hughes took off his glasses.

“Roy, you still love this girl and want to protect her,”  Hughes said and cleaned his glasses,   “No matter who she may or may not be dedicated to.   They leave, she leaves with him and his research.  They stay, they're trapped and she may be a casualty.  If Lazlo won't give his work to our country, nobody knows that he is actually going to give it to someone else. The fact that he refuses to let us have it....is probably because he saw exactly what we would do with it during the last war.”

“That's a very unpatriotic statement, Hughes.”  Roy said.  “Are you implying we killed our own people during a civil war for reasons other than defense?  That the last war that we saw...was for less than noble reasons?”

Hughes sighed.    “I remember hearing rumors about a weapon that could end the war last time.  I worked in Intelligence.   The Fuhrer signed an order to bring that war to a close.   There was a rumor of a project Lazarus that would end the war and prevent any one from ever testing our borders again. A weapon that would bring peace to Amestris forever.”

“That never happened.”  Roy said. However Riza said Lazlo was being held hostage by the government and left to save him.  She wouldn't tell him details because the knowledge would have put him in danger.  He was too hurt to read into that last night, then too drunk to give a damn.   Was he just being a desperate fool considering that maybe she did really love him and was just presented with something far greater than them both?  Like a weapon, too dangerous for anyone to have?  

“I don't know that I want to live in a world where it does.”  Hughes said and put on his glasses just soon enough to see Roy looking thoughtful.   He had given him the opportunity to let down his guard by cleaning his glasses, they both knew his eyesight was shit without them.   “A world where fear of some hellish weapon being unleashed hung over all of us.   Even in peace.”

“Lazlo.”  Roy said.   “Lazarus project.”

“Implies raising people from the dead?”  Hughes asked.   “I remember wondering about that back then.   Was it supposed to be ominous or just a diversion tactic from it's real purpose?”

“'Lo'....something you say to call attention to yourself.  As in how our real enemies watched us tear apart our own people, watched so we could intimidate them with our power.  Strike fear into them at how ruthless we were with our own people and made them tremble thinking of what we could do to theirs. ”  Roy locked eyes with Hughes.   They were both thinking beyond any alliances now, thinking past their positions and thinking of what this meant for the world they lived in.   They had seen what their country did with power.  

“Well right now all the attention is on us.”  Hughes said and nudged Roy with his foot.  “More precisely, on your girlfriend because she is the only possible connection to Lazlo anyone has right now.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Roy waited until the dinner rush to go behind the bar and talk to his Mom.  He had spent the entire day debating about his next move and now it was six hours after Hughes had left his office and he knew exactly what he was going to do. “So where is she?  I know you had her followed.”

Chris appreciated her boy's tactics, he had learned his lessons well.  If he had come over to talk during down time Hughes would have noticed, now that it was so busy he could slip back here with every reason in the world.     Of course he knew she had Riza followed, that was a given.  “Vanessa followed her to Warehouse B at the depot last night.”

“Thanks.”  Roy said and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Be careful.”  She blew smoke in his face to give him a reason to cough and leave the building.   “It's not like I can just adopt another son.”

Roy wasn't going to breathe in the smoke until she said that, then he laughed and sucked in a lungful of exhaled cigarette smoke.  He smirked while he coughed and ducked into the kitchen.   He cleared his throat and grabbed the cookbook off the shelf and pulled Yoki's travel papers out of it and then stuffed them into his inner jacket pocket.  He put the book back on the shelf and went into the pantry, pulled the box of cornmeal off the shelf and removed a Colt 1911 pistol.   Next he bent down and grabbed the oatmeal container and removed a magazine.   Armed with weapon and papers, he was now ready to go.  He grabbed his black trench coat off the hook and left out the back door.

It had rained most of the day, the streets were litered with puddles and thick fog hung over the town because of it.  He was finally thankful for rain because he could hear every splash and every squishy footstep.  The fog was also a blessing, it amplified the sounds and hid him from view.   Street lights cast a faint  glow as he made his way to the train station.   He wasn't sure who he'd find there, but he needed answers and he needed to believe Riza wasn't being selfish coming here.  He had to believe he wasn't completely wrong about her because he never stopped loving her.

When he reached the station he turned north down an access road and then slipped through a hole in the chain link fence that surrounded the railway yard.   There were a few warehouses back here, some that stored inventory and another that stored old railway cars that had managed to evade being scrapped.   He almost walked past warehouse B as the stenciling on the door and the fog made it look like “13” instead.   He made no efforts to mask his arrival as Riza was an excellent shot and it would do him no good to surprise her.  He opened a man door and closed it loudly behind him to announce his arrival, then walked to the middle of the warehouse and waited for her.  

Riza turned on a overhead lamp and walked over to him.  She took him in, Roy looked menacing in his dripping wet trench coat standing just outside the circle of light cast by the overhead lamp.  Seeing him still made her heart leap, even if their meetings had been tense and painful.  “You had me followed.”

“You sound...grateful.”  Roy said and watched her for any tell of where Lazlo might be.  This warehouse had some finer train cars, Pullman cars, in storage for some time when passenger sleeper cars would be needed again.   A perfect place to hide out.

“You won't give me the papers until you meet with Lazlo.”  She said.  “He's sick and I can't move him.”

Roy saw the circles under her eyes now, the lack of decent lighting was playing hell with the shadows on her face and highlighting some of what she tried to hide with makeup the other night.   She looked exhausted, she looked like that girl in the desert who was too afraid to sleep but finally got some rest when she was laying in his arms and felt safe.   He knew right then and there he was going to give her the papers and carry Lazlo to the departing train if he had to, because she needed him again.   “I have the papers for you.”

Riza smiled at him.  “I...can't thank you enough.”

“Don't thank him yet!”  Hughes said and walked out of the darkness.  “They need a signature, my signature.  Nobody leaves the country without being thoroughly checked by me.”

Roy pulled his pistol and pointed it at Hughes.  Then he pulled the papers out of his pocket and smirked.  “I know.”

“Roy, I'm beginning to think there is something to this romance of ours.”  Hughes walked closer to the light.  “You know me better than my wife.”

“You knew you were being followed?” Riza asked.  Roy had always impressed her as a soldier.  He was a strategist without the passion for war, but when the situation presented itself he would amaze everyone with his brilliance.  

“He's good, I didn't hear him. However he is excellent at his job and I didn't think I would.”  Roy admitted.

“I like you slipping out the back door during happy hour.”  Hughes grinned.  “Made it seem like you were playing hard to get.”

“I needed you to sign the papers.” Roy said.  “I thought you'd like it better if I lead you on and you thought you had the upper hand.”

“Roy, this is really the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”  Hughes smiled.  

“So, perhaps you can introduce us to Lazlo?”  Roy asked and he waved the gun at Hughes, indicating he needed to follow Riza.  “And you might want to reconsider anything you might be planning for an escape.  She's a much better shot than me.”

“No heroics from me.”  Hughes said. “I have a wife and kid to get home to.”

Riza took a deep breath and walked into the dark, leading the two men behind her.  She walked to a Pullman car, pulled herself up the stairs and opened the door.   She struck a match and lit an old railway lantern and walked down the aisle.  The squeaks behind her meant that the men were following.   The aisle was small, barely shoulder width as it was from a different era, one where people were smaller and luxuries more simplistic.   She stopped and knocked on a door.  “Mr. Mustang is here to see you.”

“Come in.”

The voice was gruff and forced.   He heard the door open to the compartment and Hughes stepped inside and hid Lazlo from view until he stepped off to the side.  Roy was shocked by what he saw.

“May I introduce Berthold Hawkeye, or as he is better known, Lazlo.”  Riza said and stood by the window.

“No wonder she thought he was dead.” Hughes said and the creepy old dude's glare shifted to him. Seriously the guy looked like he was probably running from the grim reaper not the government.

Roy blinked.  This was Lazlo?  This was the man Riza left him for?  He was ancient!

“She must like older men.  Like 'older than God' men.”  Hughes whispered.  “You never stood a chance, you with that baby face of yours.”

“He's my father.”  Riza said and gave Hughes a cold stare.  The man's expression changed to something more curious, the kind she got when she was little when people tried to figure out how she was related to Berthold.

“So you're Mustang.”  Berthold said.  “My daughter said you could be trusted.”

Roy felt the pang of pain.  Was that all she said about him?  “Is it true you have created a weapon more dangerous than anything we have seen so far?  The Lazarus Project?”

“Yes.”  Hawkeye said.  “My life's work, and like many before me I have realized it's danger too late.   However unlike Nobel and Winchester,  those who have seen the destruction and tried to made amends later, I am not going to release this hell into the world first.  I was working with another scientist, Marcoh, who was responsible for the power source for my device.    He escaped with his, I escaped with mine.   We have been running since.  I don't know if he made it out, but I won't let my work fall into anyone's hands.”

“Then why did you make it at all?” Hughes had to ask.  “You couldn't be blind to it's power?”

“When you believe you are doing the right thing, when you dedicate yourself to a cause...sometimes you fear the destruction of your purpose more than humanity itself.” Berthold said.  

“Will you give this to Aerugo?” Roy asked.  

“I am dying, I'll leave this world soon enough.   If I die here they will think my research lives on, if I leave and they can not find me then they will give up looking. Fund something more promising.”  Berthold said.   “It's not about escaping and giving my work away, it's about being able to die in peace and freeing my daughter from this burden.  You'll take care of her Mustang, won't you?  When this is all over?”

Roy didn't even think about his reply. “Of course.”

“So what are you going to do with your work?”  Hughes asked.

“It's hidden.”  Berthold said weakly.  “I don't have it anymore and my body will give out before anyone gets answers from me.   It's safe where nobody will look.”

“So it's dangerous enough you won't unleash it on the world, but you're not strong enough to destroy your legacy.”  Roy said coldly.

“I can't see the future.  Someday it might be needed.  Science will keep advancing and humanity will keep evolving, I can not predict that it may not be needed someday.” Berthold said and coughed up a little blood.   “I'm dying but not quick enough.  I can't keep moving anymore.   I need someplace to live out my days.  I used a code name so they would never know my true identity, so I could protect Riza.”

There was silence as the old man went into a coughing fit.   Hughes felt bad that Roy and the future he wanted was derailed because this old fool was too cowardly to destroy his work.   Riza was a hell of a woman, protecting her father over choosing a fairy tail ending with Roy.    However if it was this dangerous, she knew it would fall into the wrong hands eventually then they would all be back in uniform again, repulsed by the horrors of war.  “Yeah, I'll sign those papers.  This is clearly not Lazlo, looks nothing like him.   This old guy just needs to head South for better weather.  It's my duty to expedite safe passage.”

Roy held out the papers for Hughes who continued to impress him.

Hughes took the papers and pulled a pen out of his pocket and signed his name on one document, then another. It was sloppy, like he was signing them on the palm of his hand, which is exactly how he always signed them at the station.   These would raise no suspicion.   He handed then to Riza and refused to let go.  “Don't make us regret this.  You best take the last train out of here and it should be here in less than an hour.”

“Thank you.”  She said and he let go.  

Roy put his pistol away and looked to Hughes.  “Will you help me get him out of here?”

“Of course.”  Hughes nodded and worked together for the next half an hour to get Berthold Hawkeye out of the train, through the warehouse and through the back entrance to the train station so that it could look like they were helping an ordinary old man get to his destination.  

As the train whistled again Riza turned to Roy, tears still her eyes.   This was more than she wanted to ask of him and he deserved better, “Roy...”

“I'll be here.”  Roy said.  “You've got a job to do and where you're going I can't follow.”

Riza stepped closer to him, reluctantly.  She doubted her own will power to pull away from his gravitational pull if need be.   “Roy...I'm sorry. For everything. I was trying to protect you.  You would have come with me and I couldn't protect you both.  I couldn't handle being faced with that choice.  Now...”

“We've made a lot of mistakes, this can't be one of them.   We regret so much and we'll continue to do so.  Today, tomorrow and for the rest of our lives, but watching you leaving on that train won't be one of them.  You're doing the right thing and someday you'll come back again.   I see now, more than ever, the girl I fell in love with.”  Roy said and he watched tears start to roll down her cheeks.  “Hurry, you don't want to miss the train.”

Riza gave in and threw her arms around him and kissed him.  Kissed him and felt him wrap his arms around her, pulling her close to his body and locking them in an embrace neither wanted to end.  She ran her hand into his hair and kept pressure on his head, demanding he not end this kiss that they had both been longing for.  She didn't want to leave him again.   She never did.  Finally she pulled away.  “Come with us.”

“You know I can't do that. I have a job to do here and that is to ward off any suspicions.”  He gave her another light kiss as the whistle blew again, signifying departure was imminent and their time was up.  “I'll be here waiting for you.  I promise.”

Riza felt him pull away from her as he stepped out of her embrace.  She clung to him, her hands running down his arms as he backed away.   Tears fell and she watched him turn and walk away to stand beside Hughes.   She took a deep breath and went over to the conductor, handing him her paperwork.

“That Mustang has a reputation you know.”  The conductor said when he saw her tears.   “Sorry ma'am.”

She cried more and got on the train and went to the seat where her father was wrapped in a blanket and studying the newspaper.   Then she sat down and the train lurched forward on it's way to Aerugo and she watched out the window until she couldn't see him anymore.    

On the train platform Roy watched the train disappear into the distance much like he had watched the storm roll in a few nights ago.   It started to rain a little, which helped mask a tear that rolled down his cheek as Hughes approached and to his surprise slung his arm around him and pulled him away, back to town.  “So what now?”

“Do you like quiche?”   Hughes asked.  “My wife makes amazing quiche and I might have a bottle of something good stored away I could share with you.”

It was an invitation to come home with him and meet his family, an invitation to leave what just happened behind them and not speak of it again.   “It's not that bottle of scotch you won last month, is it?”

Hughes smiled and squeezed Mustang like they were old friends and then let him go so he could descend the stairs from the train station and not trip each other.   “Something you should get used to if you want to get married and have a family. Dinner at home, friends, kids looking to play and tell you about their day.”

“Hughes...”

“Don't dismiss it Roy.  Just wait until you see how cute my daughter is and you'll see it's all worth it.”  Hughes grinned and grabbed his coat sleeve when he tried to walk back to his bar instead of to the residential district.   “Then you and me, we have to start coming up with a plan to make a better world for our kids.  This one's not good enough. ”

xxxxxxxxxx

Roy was in his office reading the evening news when he heard it, the piano playing his song.   He listened a little longer, just enough to verify that the song was indeed what he thought it was, then slowly stood and walked to the door.   Then he heard a voice, one he recognized despite never hearing her sing outside of a stuffy field tent before.  

“I'm not thinking I want you to understand …..just keep silent and always stay by my side .”

Roy put his hand on the door frame and listened, trying to determine if it was his mind playing tricks on him.   Riza left 6 months and 11 days ago, on the southbound train to Aerugo and every day since then he waited for a letter or something to signify her mission was a success.   The posters offering a reward for Lazlo's apprehension were now weathered and faded, along with the military's hopes of finding him and getting their weapon back.   Still....

“Resolution is a battle with oneself....I said not to interfere, didn't I? Because you'll get burned”

He walked into the hall, slowly.   Afraid to walk into the bar and find out this was just his imagination.  He took a few more steps and sure enough there was a light above the piano and Catherine playing so softly and smiling, Havoc on the seat bedside her and Riza....standing there serenading him with his own words.  A song he wrote but even he didn't truly appreciate it's meaning until now.  He was unable to move until she turned to look at him and smiled, a warmth filling him like he hadn't experienced since their last time in this bar as lovers years ago.   They were different people, two people in love with their lives ahead of them and a war between them.   He never wanted to sing it again, but things change as time goes by.  So he sang for the first time since that night they shared long ago, “Boy, embrace your ambition....on empty nights sleep...embracing the flame in your heart.”

Riza was in tears when he finally made it over to her.  She saw Havoc and Catherine get up and leave out of her peripherals but her focus maintain on Roy.   He was close now and his hand raised up to touch her cheek and verify she was real and she melted on the spot.   She threw her arms around him and kissed him, tears flowing freely and that kiss was everything she had been longing for.   He pulled her close, squeezed her as if he would never let her go and their lips locked together until she wanted to speak.   “I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you...”

“I understand.” He said softly and put his brow to her forehead.   “I would have followed you and it was the only way.  Just don't try to do something like this without me again?”

She ran her hand over his face and smiled.  “I missed you so much...I wanted to be with you more than anything but it was my duty to ensure this weapon never became a reality.”

“Then let’s get married.”  Roy said and placed a kiss on her lips.   “I said we would get married in the first town the train stopped at, Casablanca is the first stop out of Aerugo.  We're both here.  So, let's get married. Now.”

“Right now?” She asked and looked at his face which said he was completely serious.  “I broke your heart.  I hurt you....”

“I never stopped loving you.”  He said.  “And I never will.  What you did took incredible strength and I respect you all the more for it.”

She started crying again because she really didn't feel like she deserved him.   When she stood here the last time in front of him he was hurt and lashed out.  A day later he didn't hesitate to put himself in danger to help her, now he was willing to forgive everything and pick up where they left off.   “Roy...”

“If it was going to be easy to say goodbye you would have shown up at that train station and told me you didn't love me.  You didn't.  You didn't because you knew I would see through it and see something was wrong. Maybe if I wasn't so hurt when I saw you again I would have seen how tired and worn out you looked, I didn't see that until we were in the warehouse.   Even during the war you didn't look so worn down.”

“It's different being the hunted instead of the hunter.”  She replied.

“Then why not try being my wife?” He asked.  “You don't have to try and save the world alone anymore.”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her again, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling his lips on hers.  “Yes.”

“Right now.” He said and her eyes flashed open.  “What?”

“We need a marriage license and I'm sure processing it through the proper channels will flag my last name and...I can't take a chance they have figured out I was involved....”

“Good thing I already started down that road of selling illegally obtained government documents.”  Roy said with a smirk.  “We just need a priest or a judge.   Lucky for me the current Police Chief has forced himself into my life, declared himself my best friend and also is waiting for this very moment to secure himself as my best man.”

“The man you held at gunpoint?” She asked.

“Apparently he likes that kind of thing.”  Roy said with a grin.  “So what do you say, Riza Hawkeye?  Will you marry me?”

She ran her hands up his chest and tugged on the black tie hanging loose around his neck. “You're already dressed for it, but I look like I've been traveling for six months!  Can I get cleaned up first? Maybe find something presentable?”

“Riza, this establishment specializes in gambling, drinking, live entertainment and prostitution.  I think there is probably a dress somewhere in the back room you can take with my Mom's blessing.”  He said and smiled.

Xxxxx

“How do I look?” Roy asked and turned to Hughes who was in his dress uniform and fiddling with a camera.   His new best friend looked up at him and frowned.  “What?”

“That is what you wear every night. Tux.  Black Tie.”  Maes paused as he studied the hair.  “Greasy slicked back hair is new.  Makes you look like a criminal.”

“It makes me look dignified.”  Roy grumbled.

“That's what you said when you tried to grow that mustache.”  Hughes shook his head. “Thank god that only lasted a week.”

“Hughes, for God's sake, I'm getting married!”  Roy turned and was greeted with the flash from the camera.  “And now I'm fucking blind.”

Maes reached out and fluffed up his hair while he was rubbing his eyes.  “The hair makes you look like you're going to a funeral.”

Roy groaned and swatted Hughes's hand away. Then he fixed his hair.   “Any problems with the Judge signing that paperwork?”

“No, I plan to spill a drink on the marriage license when I go to file it.  After today there is no more Hawkeye, just a Riza Mustang.”

Roy grinned as he heard that.  It sounded good.   “I appreciate it Hughes.”

“Just get to work on making kids tonight, Elicia needs someone close to her own age to play with.” Hughes smiled and went over to pour Roy a drink and one for himself.   Roy came over and took his glass and they raised them up.  “To you, Roy Mustang, I never thought I'd live to see the day I actually liked you and wanted you to be happy.”

“Same to you Hughes, I thought you were just trying to get in my pants.”  Roy said and clinked his glass against the other and together they downed their own shots.  

“Ready?”  Hughes asked as they walked out of the office and Roy shut and locked the door.

“Yes.”  Roy said.  They walked into the bar and the Judge was by the piano being served another drink by his mother.   The plan was to keep him tipsy enough to forget the names on the paper and sober enough to still perform the ceremony.   He didn't want to think about what else his mother was planning to do to make sure the man didn't cause problems if he recalled he married a girl named Hawkeye who was wanted for questioning in regards to the disappearance of Lazlo.   He was nervous, but because he feared something going wrong and ruining this moment years in the making.  

“Everything's taken care of.” Hughes assured him. “This is Judge Raines”

Roy nodded to the Judge as they approached and the man almost fell over.   Then Catherine started to play the piano and he let his eyes turn to the kitchen where his beautiful bride was going to appear.   Catherine played their song, far from traditional, but it was their song.   He saw Riza emerge in an evening gown, blue silk and decorated with jewels. Her hair was up, styled perfectly with braids coming back into a diamond clip and her long hair still slipping over her shoulders.  She didn't look tired anymore, she was glowing.

“Look at my Elicia!”  Hughes squealed and punched Roy in the shoulder.

Roy didn't even notice the kid throwing flower petals all over the dance floor.   Then the pictures started and it looked like lightning was flickering inside as Hughes snapped picture after picture with the flash on.   He didn't care, Riza came over and put her hand in his and he never broke eye contact.

Riza couldn't stop smiling.  Roy had slicked back his hair for the ceremony and he looked so different despite this being the same suit he wore the other night.   Black tuxedo, black tie and probably a black and blue bruise forming from where Hughes just hit him.  He looked so happy and she took another step closer to him to just make sure this was real.  She hoped he never stopped taking her breath away or looking at her like she was the only thing in the world.  

Madam Christmas had to lean over and tell the Judge, “Stop nursing that bourbon and marry my kid.”

“Madam, I told you I didn't know he wasn't one of the prostitutes.  I am certainly not going to marry him just to enjoy a few fantasies.”

Maes leaned over and whispered to Roy, “You been cheating on me?”

“I was unaware that I was on the menu.”  Roy grumbled and gave his Mom a look that begged her to make the old man marry them immediately.  This was not how he wanted his wedding to go but at the moment all he wanted was for it go to quickly. “Is there a backup, in case this guy is holding out for something from me?”

“Catherine's brother Alex is an ordained minister but I figured this guy was less likely to take his shirt off and cry.”  Hughes mumbled.  “I might have been wrong.”

“Oh...him and the girl!”   Judge Raines turned and grinned.  “Yes, Marriage.   Marriage is a sacred union between two people, you share hopes and dreams, finances and a bed.  Do you swear to love and protect each other, love and cherish, honor and obey....”

“Yes.” Roy and Riza both answered in unison and the man grinned at them.  Madam Christmas held his drink and tapped it with her fingernail reminding him the open bar for his services was waiting.  

“Do you Roy take this woman....” Raines looked around for the license with the names on it.  

“Riza.”  Roy answered for him.

“Do you take Riza to be your bride and love her and cherish her through the good and bad and....?”  

“I do.” Roy said.

“And you Riza, you take Roy to be your husband?”

“I do.”  Riza said.

“Then I pronounce you man and wife.” Raines reached out and took his drink and raised his glass. “Cheers!”

Roy didn't wait long to turn and kiss his new bride.   She wrapped her arms around him and he lost himself in the moment.   Around him his best man made sure the Judge signed the license, his Mom made sure he found his way to the bar and Catherine played their song while they stood there and kissed.  He wanted to make up for all the time they had missed in just this one night and refused to break off the kiss.

Riza's arms were around his neck, making sure he wouldn't pull away from her before she was ready.   This moment had taken to long, they shed too many tears and now it was all behind them.  They were married.  Roy was her husband. Finally she had to stop and say,“Tell me this is real.”

Roy glanced up at Hughes as he waved the marriage license in the air and then pointed to the door.  He was going to make sure it was filed immediately.   “Yes, Hughes is on his way to file it with records.  Unless you want to change your mind, Mrs. Mustang?”

“All I want is to change into something more comfortable and spend the night with you and only you.”  She said and he grinned from ear to ear.

“That can be arranged.”  He said and kissed her before taking her hand and leading her back towards the hallway and his office to sneak out the back door  to go his house.   As they left the building he pulled her into his arms again and kissed her.   Then without warning he scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the sidewalk.  She kissed his cheek, then tracked kissed to his ear lobe and gently nibbled on it.  He barely made it  to the second house on the left and then whispered, “Keys are in my pocket.”

“You could put me down.”

“No.”  

Riza had to let go of his neck in order to run her hand down into his pants and find his keys.   As ridiculous as this was she was enjoying every second of it.   He kissed her neck as she looked down to see if she grabbed them or not. Finally keys in hand she looked back at him and kissed his lips before shaking the keys.

He watched her turn the key in the lock and it clicked, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. Then he carried his new bride over the threshold and kicked the door closed, ready to start a new life with her. “Of all the bars in all the world, I’m glad you walked into mine.”

Riza’s feet finally hit the floor as he let her down and she whispered, “I heard from the local Police Chief the manager was single and looked good in a tux, I thought it was better than trying that Devil’s Nest place on the southside.”

Roy kissed her and said, “I look better out of the tux.”

“I remember.”  She whispered and he pulled her by the hand into his bedroom where they made up for lost nights and celebrated finally being reunited.

#royaiweek17 #fic #royai #fma fanfiction

[marthazimmerma-blog]

Cocktails - Lisa Shea | Cookbooks, Food & Wine |905596988

Cocktails Lisa Shea Genre: Cookbooks, Food & Wine Price: Get Publish Date: August 1, 2014 James Bond had his cocktails shaken, not stirred. In Casablanca they drank French 75s to drive away the angst of the war. Every era has its cocktails. There's no need to give them up when you're enjoying a low carb lifestyle! This is the first release of this cocktails book - it's got my favorite 24 recipes. I'll be adding to it over the coming months, and as an early buyer, you'll get those updates for free! Not only that, but if you write me and tell me which one you'd like me to add in, I'll research it and figure out how to make it in the most low carb way possible for you. I look forward to hearing your ideas and feedback! Slainte!

#Cookbooks #Food & Wine

[fromjesstoyou]

Gobble Gobble It's #Giveaway Time! | From Jess to You Services

ENTER HERE: http://bit.ly/NOV2017-giveaway

#Ina Garten #Sourcebooks Casablanca #contemporary romance #contemporary #Sweet Southern Trouble #Michele Summers #Harmony Homecomings Series #cookbook #romance novels #rom com #from jess to you services

[inthevintagekitchen]

Cocktails and A Movie: Discussing Censorship, Bar Nuts and Breen on the Set of Casablanca

Cocktails and A Movie: Discussing Censorship, Bar Nuts and Breen on the Set of Casablanca

  This week’s post has us traveling all the way back to a cosmopolitan city in exotic 1940’s North Africa thanks to a lovely invitation from the Pure Entertainment Preservation Society. This weekend, October 13th – 15th marks the date of the Great Breening Blogathon featuring Joseph Breen, an influential, but seldom remembered figure in filmmaking during the glamorous days of old Hollywood.…

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#1930s #1940s #a world of nuts #art #casablanca #censorship #classic films #cocktail food #cookbooks #film #hollywood #joseph breeb #morton gil clark #movies #nut recipes #old movies #spiced nut recipe

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Tonight's cooking experiment! They're not lamb shanks, my grocery store didn't have any, but still lamb.

So

Fucking

Good.

#i realize no one follows me for cooking but #cooking adventures #casablanca cookbook #ras el hanout

[instantdeerlover]

A World Beyond Sourdough added to Google Docs

A World Beyond Sourdough

 Can’t find flour? Try Italy’s chickpea-based farinata | Getty Images

From tortillas to roti to farinata, what to make instead of sourdough for the 1,000th time

So yes, everyone’s making sourdough now. But those tangy loaves are just the tip of the baguette (sorry) when it comes to the millennia old tradition of breadmaking around the world. It seems the alchemy of transforming flour and water and some kind of leavening (or not, as in the case of flatbreads) is universally comforting, as evidenced by the gazillions of bread varieties that anchor meals virtually everywhere on the planet. These simple starches are also in many ways our most accessible gateway to other cuisines, familiar and often achievable without much in the way of special ingredients.

For me, baking up some farinata or steaming mantou has helped me remember a time not long ago when we could all travel freely — when I would spend days wandering foreign streets, following my nose into some local bakery to discover something warm and soothing in an unfamiliar place. Plus, while you can still buy classic sourdough almost anywhere in the country, finding Portuguese sweet bread and Moroccan msemen can be a lot harder. Here, then are a few recipes from around the world to help us break the monotony of breaking bread.

Tortillas

What you’ll need: masa harina or flour, fat, salt

The next time you make a pot of beans — which you are definitely doing — make some fresh tortillas to go with them. Beans and tortillas have been getting cozy since long before an avocado met a slice of toast, and they’re just as simple to make yourself. For corn tortillas, use fresh masa if you can find it, but masa harina, which is available in many supermarkets and online, also produces great results. Don’t have a tortilla press? Smoosh balls of dough under a cast iron or other heavy pan. For flour tortillas, you’ll need some kind of fat, be it lard, bacon fat, shortening, or oil. An ex and I used to roll these out with a metal pipe from the hardware store, as was the tradition in his Mexican household, but any rolling pin will do — the world is heavy enough as it is. Eating these hot off the pan reminds me less of Mexico City and more of the “El Machino” conveyor belt at Chevy’s that used to mesmerize me as a kid with its fresh, puffy circles long before Krispy Kreme.

 Getty Images/EyeEm Roti puffs up bubbly in a cast iron pan Roti

What you’ll need: whole-wheat flour (pastry or AP), oil, salt

Though naan usually gets the spotlight, roti is the king of all Indian breads, says food writer and cookbook author Priya Krishna, for its versatility and sturdiness, something all of us could use a bit of now. It’s also extremely simple to make — it doesn’t require any leavening, and if you just knead it well and let it rest, it will puff up nicely in the hot pan. This recipe calls for atta, a finely ground whole wheat flour, but whole wheat pastry flour, regular whole wheat flour, or half whole wheat and half all purpose are all suitable substitutions.

Farinata

What you’ll need: chickpea flour, oil, salt

Ceci, or chickpeas, are a staple in Italy, and variations of the chickpea flour-based flatbread known as farinata exist throughout the country. The Genoese version, which goes by socca in Nice, not far from the Italian border, is a particularly popular local street food. It emerges from wood-fired ovens in big, round pans and is sliced into wedges — thin and crisp and fragrant with olive oil that seeps into the paper it’s wrapped in. All you need is chickpea flour and olive oil — I’ve been finding chickpea or garbanzo flour on supermarket shelves more often than flour these days, but if you have a ton of dried chickpeas, you can also try grinding them in a blender and sifting out the fine flour. I like eating farinata straight out of the oven and unadorned, but it also pairs well with caramelized onions or any kind of hard cheese grated over the top top while it’s still hot.

 Getty Images/iStockphoto Moroccan Msemen works with both sweet and savory preparations and cooks up on the stove-top Msemen

What you’ll need: AP flour, semolina flour, sugar, yeast

“Follow the bread, wherever it takes you,” chef M’hammed Benali once told me. He was explaining why he first left Morocco and cooked in restaurants from Seattle to San Francisco before opening his own place, Casablanca, in Honolulu. Here, instead of providing utensils, he serves a round Moroccan flatbread to eat with — the feeling of the soft warm bread in the mouth is much preferable to cold metal forks, he insists. This same feeling is all over Morocco, where community ovens and griddles set up in the medinas to make all kinds of daily breads and flatbreads. Msemen, a yeasted bread layered with butter, is one of the most ubiquitous and my personal favorite. It lends itself to sweet breakfasts drizzled with honey or savory meals when stuffed with roasted vegetables and meats. Msemen requires both semolina flour and regular AP flour, and a good amount of oil and butter which are folded in like an abbreviated version of laminated croissant dough.

Pita

What you’ll need: AP flour, oil, yeast, salt

Pita is the most common bread throughout the Levant and as far as Egypt, says Anissa Helou in her book Feast, Food of the Islamic World. So central is it to the local culture, that “in Egyptian pita is called aysh — which means ‘life,’” she writes. Her recipe for pita bread comes out a little softer and thicker than what’s found in stores — it involves flour, yeast, and olive oil, as well some time (the dough rises twice). Once in the oven, the rounds inflate like balloons almost instantly — turn the oven light on to watch the spectacle. Tip: Place your baking sheet in the oven as it’s preheating for maximum puff.

 Shutterstock Portuguese sweet bread can be baked in all sorts of fun pull-apart shapes Portuguese sweet bread by way of Kona, Hawai‘i

What you’ll need: AP flour, yeast, butter, sugar, eggs

This is a rich bread, like a decadent challah, brought to Hawai‘i by Portuguese laborers — the ones who came to Kona were known to be dairy farmers, which might explain the abundance of butter. On Hawai‘i Island, the Kona Historical Society still maintains an open-air, wood-fired stone oven that they light at 6 a.m. so that loaves emerge around 1 p.m., and where people are encouraged to gather throughout the process and talk story. It’s a reminder of the communal ovens that exist around the world, from Morocco to Hawai‘i — less of a commercial enterprise and more of a neighborhood resource that creates bonds like the gluten in well-kneaded bread. The Kona Historical Society’s recipe makes four loaves, but you can easily halve or quarter it — you’ll need yeast, flour (either bread flour or all purpose works), sugar, butter, and eggs, and about two hours of rising time.

Mantou

What you’ll need: AP flour, sugar, yeast, milk, oil

In northern China, wheat (not rice) is the most popular traditional starch, and mantou — steamed, unfilled and light and fluffy — is the region’s equivalent of sliced white bread. It’s an ideal accompaniment for any meal or even dessert, when it’s deep fried and dunked in sweetened condensed milk. This subtitled Mandarin-language YouTube recipe from Mun’s Flavor has a soothing ASMR-like quality and I found it way better than any English-language recipes — and then fell down the rabbit hole of Chinese YouTube videos on all the different varieties of Chinese steamed breads, some mesmerizingly intricate. I suggest you do the same.

Martha Cheng is a writer and editor based in Honolulu, Hawaii

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/5/5/21246809/bread-baking-recipes-not-sourdough

Created May 5, 2020 at 08:02PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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January/February 2020 – The Great British Chefs Cookbook Club

As if I don’t have enough to do, I’ve recently allowed myself to be sucked into a rather fun group on Facebook (I know, I know…), the Great British Chefs Cookbook Club. The idea of this is that every month a cookbook by a British chef is chosen as the book of the month, then everyone who wants to buys/borrows a copy and sets about cooking whatever takes their fancy from the book, before posting about the recipe, usually with photos.

There have now (not including March 2020) been 24 books, but I only started to join in in January this year, so I have no opinions on 22 of them as yet. There is a throwback Thursday where you can cook from/post about previous books, but I’m not going to buy them just for that, and I may well not buy every book on the grounds that a) I have more than enough cookbooks, and b) I’m not a baker! The books so far that I have not even touched on are:

Hong Kong Diner – Jeremy Pang

New Classics – Marcus Wareing

Planted – Chantelle Nicholson

Little Viet Kitchen – Pham Thuy Diem

Eating Well Everyday – Peter Gordon

Happy Food – Bettina Campolucci Bordi

Great British Chefs Cookbook

Simple – Yotam Ottolenghi

80 Cakes From Around the World – Claire Clark

Scandinavian Baking – Trine Hahnemann

Andina – Martin Morales

Asma’s Indian Kitchen – Asma Khan

Crumb – Richard Bertinet

Casablanca – Nargisse Benkabbou

Bazaar – Sabrina Ghayour

Moorish – Ben Tish

Island Kitchen – Selina Periampillai

Charred – Genevieve Taylor

Mandalay – MiMi Aye

Salt & Time – Alissa Timoshkina

The Book of St John – Fergus Henderson and Trevor Gulliver

Adventures with Chocolate – Paul A Young

The two I have used are Wok On by Ching-He Huang, and Fire Islands by Eleanor Ford. So how did that go? Well, it was a somewhat mixed bag, it’s fair to say.

I’ll take “Wok On” first. It was a winner for the UK in the World Gourmand Cookbook Awards 2020 in the Easy Recipes category and does what it says on the tin. And what it says on the tin is: “Perfect for sautéing, braising, frying and steaming, cooking with a wok is a way of life all over Asia. In Wok On, bestselling author Ching-He Huang celebrates the huge versatility of this magical 2,000-year-old cooking pot with a modern collection of recipes that are simple enough for every day as well as every cook.

Featuring dishes from across Asia, including Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia and Macau, almost every recipe can be made in 30 minutes or less and has been created with nutrition, taste and affordability in mind. Many are suitable for those with gluten and dairy allergies, and because Asian food typically includes lots of vegetables, many are also vegetarian or vegan too.”

So what did I make of it? On the plus side, it has some incredibly easy recipes that can be flung together in double quick time with minimal prep and one pan, usually a wok, but on the negative side, you may need to make quite drastic cuts to the amount of soy sauce used, unless that is you want to only be able to taste salt. It’s an award winning book and there are certainly some very appealing recipes in there that I have still to try, but I will be cautious about the seasoning after my initial experiences.

I discovered this issue with the first thing I tried to cook, which was Macanese Rice (with Portuguese Chouriço, Baby Scallops and Coriander). I went for that because, as some of you will know, I have a history with Macau going back to 2001, and the idea of this dish was too much to resist. I couldn’t get the correct chourico and had to settle for a Spanish chorizo instead, which I find to be slightly less intense and definitely less meaty than the Portuguese variety, but beggars can’t be choosers and out here in the sticks you sometime have to settle for what you can get. With the correct seasoning, it would have been very tasty indeed, but instead it left us in need of water, lots of water… I suggest reducing the amount of soy sauce used by half.

Another dish that suffered from too much soy was the Boozy Drunken Prawns, and again, it would probably have been fine with less soy.

By the third dish I’d decided the fault was either with the book or the brand of soy sauce I was using and not with me! As a result, the Chunky Black Pepper Honey Beef (which became venison because that was what I had to hand) was fabulous, because I only used half the soy sauce that the recipe suggested. The result had just the right amount of saltiness but you could also taste the other ingredients!

Chunky Black Pepper Honey Beef

Serves: 4 Time: 15 minutes preparation. 5 minutes cooking

Ingredients:

500g sirloin steak, cut into 5mm thick cubes

Pinch of salt

Pinch of cracked black pepper

1 tablespoon tamari or low sodium soy sauce (I recommend the low sodium variety use half the quantity)

Small handful of coriander leaves for garnish

For the stir fry:

1 tablespoon rapeseed oil

1 garlic clove, whole, peeled and crushed

2 large white onions, cut into 5mm chunks

1 tablespoon Shaoshing rice wine (or dry sherry)

2 red peppers, deseeded and cut into 5mm chunks

For the sauce:

100 mls cold chicken stock

1 tablespoon oyster sauce

1 tablespoon tamari or low sodium light soy sauce

1 teaspoon dark soy sauce

4 tablespoons runny honey

1/2 teaspoon cracked black pepper

1 tablespoon cornflour

Method:

Put the beef in a bowl with the salt, black pepper and soy sauce and mix well.

Put all the ingredients for the sauce into a small jug or bowl and mix well.

Heat your wok over a high heat until smoking then add the rapeseed oil and swirl it around. Add the garlic and cook for a few seconds, then add the onions and stir fry them until they are translucent.

Add the beef and sear on one side for 20 seconds, then turn them over and cook to your liking (medium is probably best). Season with the rice wine or sherry.

Add the red peppers and toss for 30 seconds or until slightly softened.

Remove the beef, onions and peppers from the wok and set aside on a plate.

Add the sauce to the wok and cook it until it reduces and becomes sticky.

Return the beef, peppers and onions to the wok and toss it with the sauce.

Garnish with coriander and serve it with jasmine rice and Garlic Wok Tossed Baby Pak Choi.

Far more successful was the fabulous “Fire Islands”, which has a catch-all description of “recipes from Indonesia”, and which became an even better experience when it became clear that the author, Eleanor Ford, was happy to get involved and comment on what people had done, and how it had gone. She even agreed to a live Q&A session on Facebook where she proved most engaging. As a result I intend to lay hands on her other book, “Samarkand”, as well, especially as there is a plov recipe in it! As for “Fire Islands”, it’s already won two Gourmand World Cookbook Awards in 2020 (in the categories International and Spices), plus it won in its category (Food and Travel) in the Edward Stanford Travel Writing Awards for 2020 as I type this. I think those awards are thoroughly well deserved.

But first, the blurb: “Steep verdant rice terraces, ancient rainforest and fire-breathing volcanoes create the landscape of the world’s largest archipelago. Indonesia is a travellers’ paradise, with cuisine as vibrant and thrilling as its scenery. For these are the original spice islands, whose fertile volcanic soil grows ingredients that once changed the flavour of food across the world. On today’s noisy streets, chilli-spiked sambals are served with rich noodle broths, and salty peanut sauce sweetens chargrilled sate sticks. In homes, shared feasts of creamy coconut curries, stir-fries and spiced rice are fragrant with ginger, tamarind, lemongrass and lime. The air hangs with the tang of chilli and burnt sugar, citrus and spice. Eleanor Ford gives a personal, intimate portrait of a country and its cooking, the recipes exotic yet achievable, and the food brought to life by stunning photography.”

This time I got started early in the month, when I’d planned a few of the dishes for Sunday dinner (and the leftovers to be used up during the following week). An unexpected visitor meant it turned into a late-ish lunch instead. I had realised that I had all sorts of things that were suitable for use with these recipes, and thus we ended up with a veritable feast.

There was an excellent, tangy Sweet and Spicy Mushroom Tongseng, the luxuriously creamy Potato Tuturuga, a melting Sumatran Lamb Korma, with Golden Lace Pancakes, and portions of Spice Rice to mop it all up with. Our guest went back in for seconds of everything so I’m taking that as a vote of confidence! There certainly weren’t as many leftovers as I’d been counting on once we all slumped on the sofas to nurse our food babies. The only thing I didn’t succeed with were the pancakes, and that was because people were getting very hungry so I didn’t have time to mess about making them thin and lacy. I just needed to get food in front of them as soon as possible.

Sweet & Spicy Mushroom Tongseng

Serves: 4 Time: 20 minutes

Ingredients

2 lime leaves

1 lemongrass stick, trimmed and bruised

2 cm galangal, skin scrubbed, bruised

1 tablespoon oil

500 g (1 lb 2 oz) oyster mushrooms

3 tablespoons thick coconut milk

1 1/2 teaspoons dark palm sugar (gula jawa), shaved

2 teaspoons kecap manis

1 1/2 large red chillies, seeded and sliced

1 ripe tomato, cut in wedges

For the Bumbu spice paste:

1/2 teaspoon coriander seeds

4 peppercorns

1 small red Asian shallot, roughly chopped

2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

1 candlenut or 2 blanched almonds

1 cm ginger, peeled

1 cm turmeric, peeled, or 1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric

Method:

Start by making the bumbu spice paste. For this small quantity I find this easiest to do with a pestle and mortar. Start with the coriander seeds and peppercorns, then add all the other ingredients and grind to a paste.

Put the bumbu in a large frying pan with the lime leaves, lemongrass and galangal. Drizzle in the oil and stir-fry until fragrant. Loosen the paste with a ladleful of water.

Add the mushrooms and turn to coat in the spices. Add the coconut milk, palm sugar and a good pinch of salt. Cook for 5–10 minutes. The mushrooms will release liquid as they fry. Towards the end of cooking, stir through the kecap manis, sliced chillies and tomato. Taste for seasoning.

Another night saw me tackle the equally delicious Javanese Sea Bream and Spinach, which became Monkfish, Water Chestnuts and Spinach because there was stuff which needed using up before I could even consider shopping for new ingredients. The Sweetcorn Rice went with it brilliantly and my version of Vegetable Urap with Dessicated Coconut was good too with all sorts of things (sausages, steak) as well as the fabulous fish dish. Again, I made changes to the recipe, and used yellow peppers and leeks in place of the edible fern tips or seasonal greens, the fine green beans and the beansprouts because that’s what I had to hand.

Vegetable Urap with Fresh Spiced Coconut

Serves: 2-4

Time: Varies according to your choice of vegetables!

Ingredients:

140 g (5 oz) edible fern tips or seasonal greens, roughly chopped

100 g (3. oz) fine green beans, cut in thirds

100 g (3. oz) beansprouts

1 tablespoon coconut oil

6 small red Asian shallots, sliced

4 garlic cloves, sliced

1 large red chilli, seeded and sliced

100 g (3. oz) grated fresh coconut or 80 g (1 cup) desiccated coconut

100 g (3. oz) cooked black-eyed beans (optional)

juice of a kaffir lime or lime

1 tablespoon crisp-fried shallots

Method:

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil and add the fern tips and green beans. Cook for 2 minutes or until just tender. Add the beansprouts for the last 20 seconds of cooking. Drain and leave to cool. If you have used greens that retain a lot of water, gently squeeze them dry.

Set a wok or frying pan over a medium heat and add the coconut oil followed by the shallot and garlic. Cook, stirring frequently, until pale golden, then add the chilli and cook to just softened. Lower the heat and add the coconut along with a good pinch of salt. If using desiccated coconut, also add a splash of water to soften and help the flavours meld. Cook just for a minute, then remove from the heat and leave to cool.

Toss the vegetables and black-eyed beans (if using) with the spiced coconut and lime juice and taste for seasoning. Scatter over the crisp-fried shallots.

Food 2020 – The Great British Chefs Cookbook Club January/February 2020 - The Great British Chefs Cookbook Club As if I don't have enough to do, I've recently allowed myself to be sucked into a rather fun group on Facebook (I know, I know...), …

#2020 #Baby Scallops and Coriander) #Boozy Drunken Prawns #Ching-He Huang #Chunky Black Pepper Honey Beef #Cooking #Dinners #Eleanor Ford #Fire Islands #Food #Food and Drink #Golden Lace Pancakes #Great British Chefs Cookbook Club #Javanese Monkfish with Water Chestnuts and Spinach #Javanese Sea Bream and Spinach #Lunches #Macanese Rice (with Portuguese Chouriço #Potato Tuturuga #Recipes #Spice Rice #Sumatran Lamb Korma #Sweet and Spicy Mushroom Tongseng #Sweetcorn Rice #Vegetable Urap with Dessicated Coconut #Wok On

[easyfoodnetwork]

Can’t find flour? Try Italy’s chickpea-based farinata | Getty Images From tortillas to roti to farinata, what to make instead of sourdough for the 1,000th time So yes, everyone’s making sourdough now. But those tangy loaves are just the tip of the baguette (sorry) when it comes to the millennia old tradition of breadmaking around the world. It seems the alchemy of transforming flour and water and some kind of leavening (or not, as in the case of flatbreads) is universally comforting, as evidenced by the gazillions of bread varieties that anchor meals virtually everywhere on the planet. These simple starches are also in many ways our most accessible gateway to other cuisines, familiar and often achievable without much in the way of special ingredients. For me, baking up some farinata or steaming mantou has helped me remember a time not long ago when we could all travel freely — when I would spend days wandering foreign streets, following my nose into some local bakery to discover something warm and soothing in an unfamiliar place. Plus, while you can still buy classic sourdough almost anywhere in the country, finding Portuguese sweet bread and Moroccan msemen can be a lot harder. Here, then are a few recipes from around the world to help us break the monotony of breaking bread. Tortillas What you’ll need: masa harina or flour, fat, salt The next time you make a pot of beans — which you are definitely doing — make some fresh tortillas to go with them. Beans and tortillas have been getting cozy since long before an avocado met a slice of toast, and they’re just as simple to make yourself. For corn tortillas, use fresh masa if you can find it, but masa harina, which is available in many supermarkets and online, also produces great results. Don’t have a tortilla press? Smoosh balls of dough under a cast iron or other heavy pan. For flour tortillas, you’ll need some kind of fat, be it lard, bacon fat, shortening, or oil. An ex and I used to roll these out with a metal pipe from the hardware store, as was the tradition in his Mexican household, but any rolling pin will do — the world is heavy enough as it is. Eating these hot off the pan reminds me less of Mexico City and more of the “El Machino” conveyor belt at Chevy’s that used to mesmerize me as a kid with its fresh, puffy circles long before Krispy Kreme. Getty Images/EyeEm Roti puffs up bubbly in a cast iron pan Roti What you’ll need: whole-wheat flour (pastry or AP), oil, salt Though naan usually gets the spotlight, roti is the king of all Indian breads, says food writer and cookbook author Priya Krishna, for its versatility and sturdiness, something all of us could use a bit of now. It’s also extremely simple to make — it doesn’t require any leavening, and if you just knead it well and let it rest, it will puff up nicely in the hot pan. This recipe calls for atta, a finely ground whole wheat flour, but whole wheat pastry flour, regular whole wheat flour, or half whole wheat and half all purpose are all suitable substitutions. Farinata What you’ll need: chickpea flour, oil, salt Ceci, or chickpeas, are a staple in Italy, and variations of the chickpea flour-based flatbread known as farinata exist throughout the country. The Genoese version, which goes by socca in Nice, not far from the Italian border, is a particularly popular local street food. It emerges from wood-fired ovens in big, round pans and is sliced into wedges — thin and crisp and fragrant with olive oil that seeps into the paper it’s wrapped in. All you need is chickpea flour and olive oil — I’ve been finding chickpea or garbanzo flour on supermarket shelves more often than flour these days, but if you have a ton of dried chickpeas, you can also try grinding them in a blender and sifting out the fine flour. I like eating farinata straight out of the oven and unadorned, but it also pairs well with caramelized onions or any kind of hard cheese grated over the top top while it’s still hot. Getty Images/iStockphoto Moroccan Msemen works with both sweet and savory preparations and cooks up on the stove-top Msemen What you’ll need: AP flour, semolina flour, sugar, yeast “Follow the bread, wherever it takes you,” chef M’hammed Benali once told me. He was explaining why he first left Morocco and cooked in restaurants from Seattle to San Francisco before opening his own place, Casablanca, in Honolulu. Here, instead of providing utensils, he serves a round Moroccan flatbread to eat with — the feeling of the soft warm bread in the mouth is much preferable to cold metal forks, he insists. This same feeling is all over Morocco, where community ovens and griddles set up in the medinas to make all kinds of daily breads and flatbreads. Msemen, a yeasted bread layered with butter, is one of the most ubiquitous and my personal favorite. It lends itself to sweet breakfasts drizzled with honey or savory meals when stuffed with roasted vegetables and meats. Msemen requires both semolina flour and regular AP flour, and a good amount of oil and butter which are folded in like an abbreviated version of laminated croissant dough. Pita What you’ll need: AP flour, oil, yeast, salt Pita is the most common bread throughout the Levant and as far as Egypt, says Anissa Helou in her book Feast, Food of the Islamic World. So central is it to the local culture, that “in Egyptian pita is called aysh — which means ‘life,’” she writes. Her recipe for pita bread comes out a little softer and thicker than what’s found in stores — it involves flour, yeast, and olive oil, as well some time (the dough rises twice). Once in the oven, the rounds inflate like balloons almost instantly — turn the oven light on to watch the spectacle. Tip: Place your baking sheet in the oven as it’s preheating for maximum puff. Shutterstock Portuguese sweet bread can be baked in all sorts of fun pull-apart shapes Portuguese sweet bread by way of Kona, Hawai‘i What you’ll need: AP flour, yeast, butter, sugar, eggs This is a rich bread, like a decadent challah, brought to Hawai‘i by Portuguese laborers — the ones who came to Kona were known to be dairy farmers, which might explain the abundance of butter. On Hawai‘i Island, the Kona Historical Society still maintains an open-air, wood-fired stone oven that they light at 6 a.m. so that loaves emerge around 1 p.m., and where people are encouraged to gather throughout the process and talk story. It’s a reminder of the communal ovens that exist around the world, from Morocco to Hawai‘i — less of a commercial enterprise and more of a neighborhood resource that creates bonds like the gluten in well-kneaded bread. The Kona Historical Society’s recipe makes four loaves, but you can easily halve or quarter it — you’ll need yeast, flour (either bread flour or all purpose works), sugar, butter, and eggs, and about two hours of rising time. Mantou What you’ll need: AP flour, sugar, yeast, milk, oil In northern China, wheat (not rice) is the most popular traditional starch, and mantou — steamed, unfilled and light and fluffy — is the region’s equivalent of sliced white bread. It’s an ideal accompaniment for any meal or even dessert, when it’s deep fried and dunked in sweetened condensed milk. This subtitled Mandarin-language YouTube recipe from Mun’s Flavor has a soothing ASMR-like quality and I found it way better than any English-language recipes — and then fell down the rabbit hole of Chinese YouTube videos on all the different varieties of Chinese steamed breads, some mesmerizingly intricate. I suggest you do the same. Martha Cheng is a writer and editor based in Honolulu, Hawaii from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3c4F9FK

http://easyfoodnetwork.blogspot.com/2020/05/a-world-beyond-sourdough.html

#EasyFoodNetwork #ComfortFoodRecipes #EasyRecipes #GoodFood #BestComfortFoodRecipes #TastyFoodv

[bleedingcoffee42]

Casablanca AU

This is all @lonepiper5758 ‘s fault for mentioning a Notorious AU which I quickly jumped on and then jumped to Casablanca because of Ingrid Bergman.

 I still don’t know who is going to be Lazlo.   So for now his name is the filler and this could go in any direction.   As always.  Just drabbles here so I can get it out of my head.  Going with the Royai version, but I’m getting my friendly flirty Hyuroi in there too.   This song shall be my choice for As Time goes By because dammit is is one of the lyrics and I do love this song.

xxxxxxxx

“Lazlo needs to leave the country and he needs papers to do so.”  Hughes said and refilled his drink from the bottle on Roy's desk.

“Why would I help him?”  Roy asked and leaned back in his chair as Hughes leisurely sat on his desk swinging his leg and helping himself to his private stash of bourbon.    “Where would I get official documents like that?”

“You tend to like your lost causes and underdogs.”  Hughes set a shot glass in front of Roy and then refilled his own.  “You also tend to get involved in conspiracies like this by nature of your business.”

“I run a bar.  My Mom's bar.”  Roy said and lifted the glass and looked up at Hughes.  “I'm also not hiring you as a bartender after you get fired for your shitty investigation techniques if you can't figure out how to fill these glasses with equal amounts of booze.”

Hughes's glass was almost overfilling, almost.  He carefully slurped some bourbon off the top before throwing the rest into his mouth.   He watched Roy's eyes the entire time trying to see if he was hiding anything.  “I walked in today and was shocked,  shocked, that this establishment was hosting some form of illegal gambling.  I mean once you open the doors to that then it becomes known that you will deal in just about anything. Like smuggling or travel documents.”

Roy smirked.  Hughes's sarcastic comments got louder the more he drank.   Roy picked up a brown envelope and held it up in front of his face.  “By the way, here are your winnings.”

Hughes grinned and set the glass down to take the envelope.  “Got a wife and kid to feed.”

Roy studied the man sitting on his desk and lifted his glass and observed. “It's half full.”

“See you're a 'half full' kinda guy.” Hughes replied.  “Which is why you would help this Lazlo guy escape.  So he could maybe change the world.  Stop the next war.   Get back to his family.”

Roy cocked his head.   “Must you dance around this topic all night?  I do have to open for business eventually.”

“I am an incredible dancer.”

“You dance like you borrowed your body and haven't figured out how to use it yet.”  Roy countered.

“You bitter asshole, someday you're going to fall in love and get yourself a wife and then you won't be able to resist going out and making a fool of yourself with her.” Hughes snorted and to his surprise he saw a  flicker of sadness in Roy's eyes.   There had been someone.  

“You're already taken.”  Roy said and puckered up and blew a kiss before drinking his half-shot of bourbon.  

“Speaking of wives, Lazlo is rumored to be traveling with someone.  I don't think it's too much of a leap to assume it's his wife.”  Hughes said.  

“Don't you have people that you work with that you should be discussing this with?”  Roy asked and set the shot glass down.   “I'm running the local gambling and drinking establishment that you suspect of being a haven of illegal dealings and operations.   Why are you bothering me with this, you're the police chief?”

“It's good for business to cooperate with the local police.”  Hughes smiled.

“Maybe you should go back to work so I can start doing my job.” Roy stood up and  Hughes leaned towards him.

“Everyone is looking for Lazlo. Everyone.   Be careful with this one Roy, you have no idea how far up the chain this goes.   I'm not asking you to turn him in, just turn him away.”

“From what you're saying, I'm the only one who can help.”  Roy saw Hughes wink before jumping off his desk and straightening out his uniform.   “So I might as well sign his death certificate before delivering him to you.  I hear there's a reward too.”

“We both know you won't do that.   You soft-hearted bastard.”  Hughes picked up his hat off the desk and lowered his voice.  “Just...be careful.  I don't want you mixed up in this one.”

“Go to work Hughes.”  Roy said and buttoned up his shirt and  straightened out his loose tie to prepare for the evening.   “I don't have any damned papers.   They have no reason to come to me.”

“Have a good night, Roy.”  Hughes said and put his hat on.  

Roy watched him leave then turned to his mirror and tied his bow tie.   So much for being a neutral party here.  Those papers Hughes was hunting for were currently stashed in an old cookbook in the kitchen.  Yoki had come in last night, panicked and looking to 'store' them somewhere for a small fee.   At least he got payment up front as now Yoki was dead and Hughes was trying to find where those damned papers were.  

Xxxx

“Miss Riza?”  Catherine lit up and went over to hug the woman she never thought she would see again.   “Is it really you?”

“Yes, Catherine.”  Riza felt her rib cage scream as Catherine hugged with all the power of the Armstrong family.  “How are you?”

“Great!   Remember Jean?” Catherine grinned and showed her her wedding ring.   “We got married last year!  He works for Roy now and I get to play here instead of those stuffy pretentious music halls.  I love it!”

“Married?”  Riza said and sure enough there was a ring on her finger.   She never thought Jean would make it past the first date, but good for him.  “Congratulations!”

“He took off his shirt to help me move the piano and I just...was smitten.”  She said and sat back down at the piano.  “He's amazing.  I had no idea he was hiding that body under his shirt.   I love a man who can really take care of himself, you know?”

Riza didn't understand the Armstrong family at all but she wasn't going to admit that.   Havoc was probably still shocked by it.   He seemed resigned to just flirting with her and working the bar for Roy, but something clearly changed. Good for him.   “How's Roy?”

“Still keeps himself in shape.  I think it's because he doesn't sleep and needs something to do.   Nice abs, but no where near the broad shoulders and muscle mass of Jean. Plus, he's short.”  Catherine said and then looked at her.  “Oh, you mean is he married?”

“I...”  Riza wasn't sure what she really wanted to know.  “Is he well?”

“Well he's OK.”  Catherine said.   “For an alcoholic.”

Riza could hear her change in voice. “You want me to leave him alone?”

“You broke his heart Miss Riza.” Catherine said.   “I'm sure you had your reasons...but you didn't have to see what it did to him.   So...I'm glad you're well but you made your choice.”

“I did.”  Riza said and toyed with the small candle on the table.   “Just one song before I leave?”

“I can do that.” Catherine said and saw the sad smile.  “Just not that one.”

“Please?  Play it Catherine.”  Riza said softly.  “Play it for me.”

Catherine wished she couldn't remember that night so easily, Riza and Riza dancing as he sang to her.   Madam dimming the lights so everyone only saw them on the dance floor, lost in each others smiles and eyes.   Roy singing like he used to, with a voice that would melt anyone who heard it.   The entire bar stopped to listen and watch as two people fell in love.   Then furlough was over and they went back to war.   Eventually Roy came home, broken and without the woman he fell in love with.  

“Please?   I...just need to hear it one last time.”  Riza said and felt herself get misty eyed.  “I'll leave after.”

Catherine grudgingly laid her fingers on the keys and started to play that song from that night long ago. That song that she hadn't played since.   The patrons went about their business not knowing the significance of the song but she could feel Havoc's eyes on her from the bar.  

“Sing it?”  She asked.  The song was something she had never heard set to music before and not heard since.  It was  something Roy had written.   She could see Catherine struggling with it but eventually she closed her eyes and her voice filled the bar.

“Sometimes there are days one has to go....”  Catherine hadn't though about the words to  this song in years.  And now she wondered if it was an explanation from Riza as to why she left Roy.  “Turning his back on what is precious...”

Riza could feel the lump in her throat as she heard the words.   It wasn't Roy's voice but she could still hear it in his.  Feel him close to her, singing softly in a private serenade as they danced too close in front of all those people.

“Men are sad creatures, huh?” Catherine's voice got a little louder, it was hard to not get into singing the song.   Roy wasn't here, he'd never have to know.  This song he wrote, seemed so personal now.  He wrote it while he was at war.   He wrote it to express himself and try to remain human in an inhuman situation.   “Dragging weight that can't be extinguished on their backs.”

Riza blinked, her eyes were getting damp.   They had talked about what they had done, about the weight of their actions.   They had found each other during the worst time in their lives and he had shown her the light of hope at the end of it all.   He understood they could never made amends for what they did, understood when she said they would carry the dead on their backs forever.  

“Boy, embrace your ambition...” Catherine's voice carried.  No going back now.  She could feel the passion and pain of the songwriter and wanted to understand him better.    “If you possess darkness in your right hand.....and dreams in your left hand...”

Fools.  Naive idiots thinking they could protect people.  Thinking they were doing the right thing when all they were doing was killing people for a government that never cared about right or wrong.   And him, the dreamer.  The dream still existed in him, he wanted to change things.  Roy Mustang hadn't lost himself entirely and that was why she was so drawn to him.  A humble hero and a battered idealist, but not a broken man.   Not until....she broke him.

“Wowow, My Train in rain is the vision waving its hand Time goes by a memory of that person?

Drown out the screams”

Roy walked into the bar and was met with the chorus of a song he wrote, a song he never wanted to hear again.  Enraged he stormed over to the piano immediately and slammed his hand down on it and hissed.  “God dammit I told you to never play that again.”

Catherine stopped immediately and watched his face change as he looked past her to see Riza.  Then his anger melted away and all she saw was pain.   She got up and pushed her stool in to retreat to the bar where Havoc was waiting.  

Riza couldn't believe how he still took her breath away, how he could still stir in her the emotions that made her stomach tighten and heart pound.   She couldn't even blink away the tears forming in her eyes, fearing he would vanish if she took her eyes off him for a second.  

Roy stared at her, the last person he thought he would see again.   Riza Hawkeye's beautiful face haunted him every night as he reached out for her and she vanished into thin air.   He never forgot a detail about her, not her big brown eyes welling up with tears or the way her lips pursed when she was trying to be strong.  It was the Riza he fell in love with, the one struggling to keep herself together despite the damned world trying to destroy her.   He fell in love with her strength and here she was, strong enough to sit in his bar and have that damned song played for her.

#casablanca au #royai #fic

[eloiseyat-blog]

Cocktails - Lisa Shea | Cookbooks, Food & Wine |905596988

Cocktails Lisa Shea Genre: Cookbooks, Food & Wine Price: Get Publish Date: August 1, 2014 James Bond had his cocktails shaken, not stirred. In Casablanca they drank French 75s to drive away the angst of the war. Every era has its cocktails. There's no need to give them up when you're enjoying a low carb lifestyle! This is the first release of this cocktails book - it's got my favorite 24 recipes. I'll be adding to it over the coming months, and as an early buyer, you'll get those updates for free! Not only that, but if you write me and tell me which one you'd like me to add in, I'll research it and figure out how to make it in the most low carb way possible for you. I look forward to hearing your ideas and feedback! Slainte!

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