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#do i just boil some water and dump some cabbage in
me: hey google, how do i cook cabbage
google: well you can try it mixed with these ingredients to give it a nice taste or you could cook it up with xyz or-
me, who literally just does not know how to cook cabbage: DO I PUT IT IN A POT OR NOT GOOGLE-
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mrskodzuken · 2 years
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El Diablo (Send Noods)
pairing: Sugawara Koushi x gn!reader
genre: fluff with comfort and crack bits (sfw) 🤷🏻‍♀️ /gen
wc: 0.7k
warnings: food ofc; also unsafe handling of chili (especially chopped ones).
a/n: my first entry for my own collab event, “Ame no Ai/Rainy Love” Collab; also a somewhat collab dare between me, @love-amihan @citricarcey and @/lumpiang-toge feat. our HQ boyfies (i.e., an exchange collab of sorts). Dedicated to my cute litol kabute Mimi (@/love-amihan), as promised 😘 Special thanks to @water-and-grass and wifey @atsuminthe for beta-reading this *headpats 🥰* tagging @anime-central 😉
Wanna be a part of my general taglist? Fill the form here.
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El Diablo, n. A cheap but hearty Filipino street meal composed of instant mami noodles, chopped vegetables, hard-boiled eggs and chili flakes in boiling hot water, served in a big plastic cup to be consumed right away.
[16:18]
You were staring outside the window of your dorm room while doing your homework. The pitter-pattering of heavy rain wouldn’t let up, drops staining the window panes. The weather report had said there was a typhoon coming in the area so moderate to heavy rainstorms were expected.
You sighed, leaning your head on your hand, pouting. “Hope the rain stops tomorrow morning. Else we will have to cancel our cafe date, Kou-chan,” you muttered, eyes looking sadly at the gray-haired guy you were FaceTiming on your phone.
Sugawara chuckled at your small dilemma, opening the kitchen cupboards to fish out some noodle packets and a big coffee mug. “Is that what you’re worrying about, angel?” he asked, filling the electric kettle with enough water before setting it up and switching on the plug.
“What’s that supposed to mean!? It’s been a week since we’ve seen each other, and I’m reeeeeally looking forward to our date together! I missed you, you know?” You rested your chin above your scattered homework on the table, arms stretched in front.
“I know, I missed you too, my Y/N. Can’t wait to see you, too.” Your boyfriend crushed the packet’s contents into bite-sized pieces before opening and fishing its seasoning sachets. He then dumped the noodles into the mug before heading over to the fridge to get some leftover cabbage.
You heard some chopping on the other line and curiosity got the best of you, so you asked Sugawara. “What are you doing, Kou-chan?”
The electric kettle’s switch suddenly flipped off, meaning the water’s done boiling. Sugawara unplugged the cord and brought it to the table, sitting it beside the chopped cabbage. “Ah, I was kind of hungry so I’m making some El Diablo noodles,” he told you sheepishly while starting to chop a single red chili. “Perfect for this rainy weather~”
“Eh~ lucky you’re eating noodles right now… how unfair,” you complained, looking at him through your phone screen putting both the chopped cabbage and chili bits on the mug before adding in the noodle seasoning and hot boiling water. Are those… chopped chili? you cautiously thought, squinting at the phone screen.
Suga winked at you from the other line, mixing all of the ingredients with a spoon. “Why don’t you join me, angel? Do you have some cup noodles with you or something?”
You hummed thoughtfully, getting up from your seat and searching through your pantry. “Let’s see… ah!” You grabbed a spicy seafood-flavored Cup Noodle and showed it to Sugawara. “Here it is! Wait, let me boil some water first—don’t eat up just yet, Kou-chan!”
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[A few moments later…]
“Itadakimasu!” you both said, bringing each pair of hands in a praying sign, before digging into your respective cup of noodles.
Sugawara happily slurped through the noodle broth and made a hearty ahh sound. “Eating a steaming mug of El Diablo on a rainy afternoon is the best!” he said, munching on the cabbage slices. You, on the other hand/side of the phone screen, looked grim with your normal-looking spicy seafood-flavored Cup Noodle.
The gray-haired guy noticed your gloomy expression through his phone screen and couldn’t help but be sad as well. “Angel, what’s wrong? Why are you sad?”
Poking through the yellow puffed corn floating above your cup, you huffed and puffed your cheeks while looking at him. “I wish I could be with you right now and eat noodles together on a rainy day, Kou-chan…”
Sugawara’s eyes softened as he looked at you lovingly and smiled, wiping a stray tear from one eye with his fingers. “I do, too, my angel. Don’t worry, soon we’ll eat noodles together; I might make another cup of El Diablo just for you when you come over to my place! So don’t be sad, okay?”
Your eyes twinkled at what he said and grinned, nodding like a happy child. “Okay!” A pause. “Um, ano, I noticed you touched your eye with the same hand you used earlier in handling chopped chili. Didn’t you use kitchen gloves while chopping them? I didn’t see you washed your hands after—“
“Hm? Kitchen gloves…?”
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Reblogs are nice, reposts and plagiarism stuff are frowned upon 🥰
My Masterlist
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azucanela · 4 years
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HOME PT. 1 | ZUKO
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HOME MASTERLIST
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SUMMARY: In which Zuko has a chance to go home.
WORD COUNT: 2.9k
WARNINGS: blood, weapons, fights, death threats
A/N: we love zuko in this house, also send stuff into my ask box im bored and need ideas to write kashdkfkjasdhlf 
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When Zuko was banished, it seemed that Ozai was more upset that Y/N intended to go with him, than at the pain he had caused his son. She was a talented firebender, capable of defeating even Azula, his prodigal daughter, in an Agni Kai. Her tactics and strategies, despite her young age, proved effective time and time again. She had the makings of a great General for the Fire Nation Army, and Ozai saw it as a waste for her to search for someone who would likely never be found. Not when Y/N L/N had so much potential. 
Y/N just saw it as proof that Ozai never truly cared for his son. His recognition of the impossible task he had bestowed upon his own child.
At the end of the day, her loyalty lied with the prince, so she set sail alongside him and his Uncle, in search of an avatar that had been gone for a century. They had known each other since they were children, when Ozai had taken interest in her natural talent for firebending. She had been raised alongside Zuko and Azula, training with them. But as most knew, Azula had an affinity for inflicting pain to those around her in her free time, so when the time came for a sparring match between Y/N and Azula, the results were deadly.
Ozai decided Y/N would stick around a little longer when she managed to beat Azula that day.
Zuko had never been competitive, not like Azula was. Though he’d asked her for tips on how to improve, and she’d graciously assisted him. And so, a friendship blossomed in the fire of their youth. She became his sparring partner, and as they grew older, his right hand.
She never regretted stepping onto the boat with Zuko the first day of his banishment. But she was beginning to regret ever speaking with him in the first place. He had no goal other than finding the Avatar, it was his sole purpose at this point, even after nearly three years of searching. But there were moments in which she found him rather… peaceful. He was almost the same boy who Y/N had played tag with as a child all those years ago. And in these moments, when she caught a glimpse of the real Zuko, she couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in her chest each time they had an actual conversation. 
One that wasn’t about his never ending quest to find the Avatar.
The conversations they had in the middle of the night, when sleep failed to reach them. The ones they never mentioned when the night was over. Because what happened in Zukos’ room at night, stayed there.
Y/N had only ever needed to knock once and Zuko was opening the door to his room on the ship. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she slipped inside, hoping no one noticed because they both knew what it would look like from an outside perspective. Not that she cared what others thought. What happened between her and Zuko was their business, though nothing ever really happened. He would try to make tea, they would dump the tea because of how bad it tasted, Y/N would remake the tea, and then they would talk.
Sometimes she wished it was more than that though. 
It was a foolish dream to have, she recognized that as she took the teapot before he could even make an attempt to boil the water. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked as she began to heat the water with her firebending, holding the pot above her free hand.
Zuko scoffed, sitting back on the mat he referred to as a bed, “no, I just knew you’d be awake.” 
Y/N frowned, “you should’ve gone to bed.” She places the tea leaves into the steaming pot, moving to sit with her legs crossed, across from him on the floor.
“And put the entire ship at risk?” Came his response, his brow raised. 
Y/N laughed lightly, “what are you talking about?” Her head tilts as she looks at him in confusion, grabbing the two solitary teacups on his desk. 
“Last time you were left unattended you nearly blew up our only means of transportation.” He deadpanned. 
She rolled her eyes, looking to him as she spoke, “that was one time-”
Zuko was smiling now, “remember the time you nearly killed that man with a cabbage cart because he-” 
“Okay! I get it, you can stop now.” Y/N exclaimed, cheeks warming as she recalled the event. She handed him his cup of tea, and for a moment she could even forget that the only reason that they were on the ship in the first place was to find the Avatar, for a moment she could forget that Zuko had changed 
His hand grazed hers as he took the cup, mumbling a small, “thank you,” before he took a sip. Looking out the small window of the ship, he realized he would never forget his banishment. His home. He quickly brought his attention back to Y/N, only to realize she was already looking at him. 
She brought herself closer to him on the floor, “what are you thinking about?” She recognized the look on his face, the nostalgia, the pain. 
If he was honest, he was now thinking about the small amount of space between them since she’d moved to be seated beside him on the mat. Though he responded, “home.” 
Y/N hummed in response, taking a sip of her tea, “you miss it?” She asked.
Zuko scoffed, “that’s a dumb question. Of course I miss it. Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N was tempted to tell him that he shouldn’t miss the home that cast him aside for thinking of the best interest of the people. The home that was ruled by the man who scarred him for life. The man he still seeked validation from. 
Instead she shrugged, placing her tea onto the floor of his room, “well I don’t.”
His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers, he looks to her incredulously, “what do you mean you don’t? We’ve been away for so long!” He exclaims, his temper beginning to show. It was rare for him to explode at her like he tended to with other crew members, Iroh had pointed it out to him, and though Zuko shut him down quickly, nobody could deny the accuracy of the statement. But they had grown up there, together. All of his happy memories, all of his dreams, his past and hopefully his future, were all there. Had that all meant nothing to her?
“The Fire Nation was never my home, Prince Zuko.”
He almost flinches when she uses his title. And she quickly changes the subject, though she can feel it lingering in his mind as they have their tea. 
She ended up falling asleep in his cabin after they talked for the rest of the night, awakening in the room she internally groaned, knowing what it would look like when she set foot outside of his room. Being on this ship for so long, she knew her fellow crewmates were looking for some gossip to spice up their lives a bit. Looking around, Y/N realized he wasn’t there. She brought a hand up to rub her temple she sighed when she sat up, deciding she’d go back to her room and get dressed before heading up to the deck.
They’d been coasting around Earth Kingdom waters that recently been put in Fire Nation control, and as she entered the deck of the ship, Y/N realized they had docked on one of the piers. The sea of people around the market made her wonder what the area could have to offer as she turned to look back on the deck, where Iroh had been seated with his Pai Sho board, along with several other crew members loitering in the area. “Good morning Iroh,” she said with a smile as she made her way towards him, “do you happen to know what we’ll be doing today?”
He smiled up at her, gesturing for her to take a seat as he responded, “well Prince Zuko was not very pleasant this morning, so perhaps something more violent.” He took the teapot on his side, “you should probably go look for him before my nephew does something unwise.” Iroh explained with a sigh, refilling his cup. 
Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, suddenly grateful she hadn’t gotten comfortable and taken a seat when he’d offered it, “of course. He likely intends to do something irrational and stupid.” She cracked her knuckles, aggressively securing her dagger at her side as annoyance bubbled up inside her, “I’ll see you later Iroh.” 
She decided that if thugs hadn’t attacked him yet, she would, stepping off the ship and into the crowd. She slipped between the people with ease, making her way to some of the stands, shopkeepers yelling out deals as they tried to sell some of their products.
And then Y/N got distracted. It started out with a new dagger for her growing collection, then a new holster for said dagger which was now strapped to her leg along with the weapon. Would you look at that, with all this new stuff she was getting she’d definitely need a bag to carry it. Right? Right. Then it was some rare tea leaves for Iroh and new cookbook for the chef that lived on the ship, though it only served as a reminder that she was yet to eat. 
Making her way towards the part of the market that specialized in foods, the aroma filled her nose. Holding the strap of the bag tighter as she maneuvered through the busy market as she’d spotted a stand with a variety of foods. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell as she reached the stand before picking out what she wanted to purchase. In the corner of her eye she saw cabbages and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto her face. Bringing out her small pouch of money, she went to hand the shopkeeper some coins, but the old woman shook her head.
“The young man over there paid for your things already Miss.” She explained, “scary guy. Just shoved this bag of money at me and told me to keep the change while you were on the other end of the stand shopping.” Though she ended up pointing in the direction of this elusive ‘young man,’ Y/N already knew who it was as she turned around and saw Zuko brooding against a wall in one of the emptier parts of the market.
She sighed, “thank you ma’am. Have a nice day.”
The old woman nodded, and Y/N put the foods into her bag as well, grateful for the variety of pockets within it as she made her way to where Zuko stood. “She had cabbages. I’m shocked you didn’t attack her.” 
Y/N rolled her eyes, “where have you been all morning?” She pulled two of the bite-sized pastries she’d bought from the old woman, handing one to Zuko that he begrudgingly accepted as they began to walk down the empty street before taking a bite out of her pastry.
“Around.” Came Zuko’s response as he ate the small pastry. “I just wanted to browse the marketplace.” Y/N took another bite of her pastry as she listened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 
She scoffed, “Zuko, I swear.” They were entering a plaza, with a fountain in the center, “it’s my job to know where you are. I’m here to make sure you don’t die during your search for the Avatar, because I’m your right hand, remember?” She exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she got side tracked in her search for him,
“You were my right hand. At home. Not that it was your home.” He corrected her pointedly. It was quickly becoming clear that her statement had bothered him, and he wasn’t going to let this go. 
She looked at him incredulously, throwing what was left of her pastry at his chest, causing him to roll his eyes and throw what was left of his own at her face, though she dodged it. Y/N raised her brows, taken aback by this statement and action. He continued to walk as she stopped, dead in her tracks, “oh, is that what this is about? Because if you wanna talk about that we can-” A deep exhale escaped her, followed by silence. 
Zuko’s brows furrowed, “what? Don’t wanna finish the sentence?” He asked as he turned around, only to find that she had a knife pressed to neck, and was surrounded by a group of men.
Of course it had been thugs.
One of them reached to the pouch on her side, yanking it from its place on her belt while the other looked up to Zuko, “you’re going to give us your money, or your little girlfriend is gonna die.” He threatened, pressing the knife harder onto her neck, drawing blood.
Inhaling sharply, Y/N managed to let a bitter laugh escape her despite the situation, “in case you didn’t notice, we had just been arguing. I doubt he has a problem with my death at this point.”
Zuko glared at her, “could you shut up for one minute?” He exclaimed.
“Oh, I think I’m about to be shut up permanently but okay Zuko.” She replied, a sarcastic smile on her face as he narrowed his eyes at her.
He quickly returned his attention to the thugs, who had exchanged looks due to the strangeness of the exchange they were witnessing. “Here’s what’s actually going to happen. You are going to let her go, and if you don’t, you’re going to die.” 
The man with a knife against her throat laughed, “and how are you gonna manage that?” He asked, his four companions moving forward to form a circle around Zuko, weapons in hand. “We’ve got the upper hand.”
“Well, I’m not going to kill you. My little girlfriend will. And,” Zuko paused, eyeing the men surrounding him as he cracked his neck, “you don’t have the upper hand. Not while I have Y/N.”
The man was about to speak when a dagger suddenly pierced his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, dropping the knife he’d held into Y/N’s free hand. She threw the blade in Zuko’s direction and he caught it with ease as he dodged one of the men that lunged at him. 
Y/N kicked her captor’s injured leg, causing him to fall to the ground and allowing her to slip her bag off of her shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck as she rammed the hilt of the dagger onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Turning around to assist Zuko, she had a deadly realization.
One of the men was missing. 
Everything happened rather quickly after that, she extended her hand, preparing to begin firebending at the man that was attempting to sneak up behind Zuko, except no fire came out. Instead, a whip of water extended from the fountain, slamming him into a nearby building. 
The other three men exchanged looks, stopping their movements momentarily, then taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction.
Y/N was still staring at her hand in shock, though her eyes soon rose to find Zuko staring at her as well, the look in his eyes unreadable. A shaky breath escaped her, “guess that conclude your search.” She swallowed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued, “you can go back home now.” 
“We should get back to the ship.” Came his response. “You need medical attention.” Moving towards her, she took a step back.
“Zuko-”
“You aren’t the Avatar, Y/N.” He stated firmly.
“Really?” She exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice, “because it sure does look like I am. No one else is capable of bending more than one element!” She pointed out. 
Zuko shook his head, “the Avatar is an Airbender. You were born and raised in the Fire Nation.” He rationalized. “It’s not possible for you to be the Avatar, even if the Airbender is dead, the next Avatar would be from one of the Water Tribes.” Zuko opened his mouth to continue speaking but Y/N cut him off.
“Zuko.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “What are you doing?” 
In that moment he is silent, and she wonders if he’s reconsidering his choice. In actuality, a million thoughts are running through his mind, maybe he could fake her death? Tell them that she died in this town, let her live out her life in peace while he continued a false search for the Avatar. Maybe this was a fluke, or there was a Waterbender hiding in the shadows that saved their lives. Or maybe he was in denial.
The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N wasn’t going back to the Fire Nation a prisoner. 
“Protecting the only home I have left.” 
Because sometimes home isn’t a place. It’s a person. 
You can imagine their shock when they discovered the last Airbender.
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a/n: are there two avatars? maybe. is the reader a dual bender? maybe. will we ever find out? idk
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balkanradfem · 3 years
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Okay so this is what we're starting with: 
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Big cabbage-broccoli leaves, swiss chard, chives, pea pods, horse radish root and apples. I actually wanna deal with peas first, I'm not eating them today because I'm trying to collect enough to have peas for winter solstice. So I'm just quickly blanching them (boiling for a few minutes, then throwing them in cold water) so I can add them to my bag of frozen peas. Peas will lose color and texture if not blanched and I want them all pretty.
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Chives will just get washed and stored for later, I'm likely to cut them in small pieces and put them in salads or pures. Swiss chard will also be saved for now, I'll probably saute it with potatoes another day. Now lets make lunch! I decided to add to these ingredients one onion, some potatoes and one parsnip root. These are also from the garden, they were just stored for winter. I'm making a thick white soup, I don't know what that's called? It's made by mixing flour with hot oil and adding water. First I need to cut up all of this:
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And then I'll just golden the onion on oil before adding flour. The flour absorbs the oil and it gets super nasty looking right away, but it's for a good cause.
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As soon as the water is added and mixed in it turns into a nice white sauce! It does get dehydrated very quickly so it's good to add more water before it starts to burn. I added lots of water, and also dumped all potatoes, parsnip root, and greens inside. I also put some salt in. 
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Then I put the lid on, waited for it to boil, and immediately put it off of the fire and wrapped into towels and blankets. 
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 I once had to do this type of soup on a stove top and it was a nightmare; since it's thick, it actually sticks to the bottom and burns if not stirred, it can boil over, and it changes color to yellow which is not very nice at all. By having it cooked inside wrapped towels, so heat can't escape out, you are out of all these troubles. Nothing can go wrong, it can't burn or boil, and it stays creamy white, unless it catches some plant colors inside. It's done when the potatoes are soft, I left it for 40 minutes. Here's how it looks done!
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Now, we still have horse radish root and apples to process! The horse radish is crazy spicy and we're gonna make into a spicy sauce. Here's the first step: grating it into tiny tiny pieces.
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I was tired from making lunch so all next parts will be done on the bed. This was really hard to grate! Not only it's a hard root but so so spicy I was tearing up horribly by the end of it, had to blow my nose a few times. My sinuses are very clean now tho. You can see I put it all in a jar, there's a purpose to that. Next part is boiling some water and vinegar together, and adding a little bit of salt. I'm going to pour that onto my grated horse radish.
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Now what that did is effectively made it into a paste. It cooked it only a little, so the root melted down and now it's easy to use it on a bread, or as a sauce or a side-dish. Traditionally people add it to yogurt or sour cream and make a sauce that way, because it's way too spicy to eat otherwise. I added in some oil in, just to mellow it down. The jar can last in the fridge for a while, and I'm likely to eat this as a bread spread. I'm really looking forward to it! I do have to make bread first.
Now our last delicious ingredient, apples. Okay so this will be the tastiest thing we make today and I don't know if people do this, because I just did it once, on a whim, and since that day I am addicted to it. We're making pan-fried apples. Here's the apples peeled and sliced:
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And now we need only the minimum; just a little oil on a pan, and just a little sugar, a tablespoon and half maybe. Little is enough for this.
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You wait for oil to heat up, put all apples in, then close it up and leave for 7 minutes. Apples will let out some juice and they wont stick. It's done when apples get little orangy on the bottom; they can be left to fry longer but only if you want them completely soft. Here's how it looks like done!
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It's a perfect sweet, perfect dessert, I sometimes make it for breakfast too. These fried apples taste godly to me and since I can get them for free I ate a heinous amount. If at any point in time you have more apples than you can eat, this will make you eat them. See how I try to control myself by putting just a small portion on the plate? You think that worked?? I immediately came back for the rest. Ate 8 apples like it's nothing. You think I can eat 8 apples in a row otherwise? I cannot. This method filled my body with unholy amount of apples. And I will not be stopped when apples stop producing. I have some apples storaged. I can do this anytime.
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deniigi · 4 years
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Do you have any soft Mike and Matt moments by chance? I know Mike is such a little shit, but ugh I always think of him as super over protective of Matt bc he is the ‘nice’ one. To me honestly I’ll take anything lol
Yes, anon.
I do indeed :)
---
It was always a treat coming back to New York. Bumming around Chicago and New Jersey and Minneapolis was never quite the same, no matter how similar the clothes or the drapes or the atmosphere of the city’s underbelly.
New York was just something right. Always exciting. Always pulsing with tension right underneath the surface. People were always checking over their shoulders. Tucking their bags tighter under their arms. Moving their wallets and phones out of back pockets and into front ones and breast ones.
Folks knew from the start that the city would take what it wanted when it wanted it if you weren’t vigilant.
And speaking of vigilant, New York City had the added benefit of being home to Mike’s dear, dear, violent, vigilante baby brother.
Well, baby was relative.
Eleven minutes of separation wasn’t quite enough to be throwing around words like ‘baby’ and ‘elder’, but you know what?
Matt had always been the baby.
Soft-hearted. Soft-spoken. Shy. Blind.
He’d needed more help. Always had needed more help. He didn’t want it. Never wanted it.
But New York City didn’t care about what Matty wanted or needed. It dragged him down into its gushing, oily depths, and left him suspended there.
Always drowning. Always fighting to get his head above water.
Matt was too soft for this world, still, no matter how hard he’d gotten.
He acted like he was someone else, someone different, someone unrecognizable when Mike came to visit him now and again.
And like, yeah.
Boy was more angry than Mike was used to seeing him. But the simpering and cowering had vanished in recent years for something that Mike was deeply proud of.
His baby brother.
The devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
Look at baby go.
  --
Matt was used to Mike opening his window every few months for a quick place to crash. Mike thought he purposefully left it unlocked. These days, when Mike dropped by the city for a whirlwind adventure and a taste of roiling, boiling freedom, he usually found the apartment empty.
Matty was out with the best of them. Roiling and boiling.
Bless him.
Mike opened the window this time and stepped carefully over the sill and into the kitchen sink and immediately noticed a set of keys on the counter with no less than three different paper bags set in a line around them.
They looked greasy, but there wasn’t a strong smell.
He stepped out of the sink onto the tile and touched one of the bags.
Cold.
Well, shit.
  --
Matty always got the short end of the stick. It was how things were. It was one of the rules of the universe that twins never shared anything all the way through.
So Mike got the good luck and Matty got the bad luck.
Easy as that.
He was sleeping when Mike stuck his head into his room.
Not in a nice way. Not in a good way.
He was just sleeping.
Mike stepped in closer and slowly sat down on the end of the mattress.
Matt’s lip was scabbed and he had red and blue and purple all down the side of his face. He had stitches covered with sheer gauze on his neck.
The rest of him was swamped by his massive, heavy duvet.
“Rough times, Matty?” Mike asked his sleeping body.
Matt didn’t respond.
Mike patted the duvet over his shoulder.
“I gotchu, little brother,” he said. “I gotchu.”
  ---
The bags on the table were days cold. The fridge was nearly empty but for a few beer bottles. The whole place smelled of disuse. And Matt didn’t come out of his room in the morning.
Mike sat up from the uncomfortable couch, tossed the throw back over it, and went to hunt through the linen closet for a towel.
  ---
By noon, the place was aired and bright. It was early spring so it was a bit cold to have all the windows flung open, but hey.
Needs must sometimes.
Mike wiped out the inside of the fridge. Took Matty’s keys off the counter and borrowed a pair of sneakers—of course, the same size.
He went around the block to the bodega that he knew Matt favored above all the others in the area. Fresh produce. Local milk and butter. Matty was friends with the owner’s daughter; had stuck his neck out for her and her kids and her daddy.
He was soft like that.
The daughter thought Mike was him when he brought his garden of a shopping basket up to her register.
She asked him what had happened to his cane and if he needed help getting home.
Mike tapped down his glasses and smiled and told her it was mighty nice to know that folks in the neighborhood were looking after his younger twin brother.
She was shocked. Then worried because ‘Mr. Murdock’ always did his own shopping and was always asking her about these berries and those greens.
She swapped out half of Mike’s basket for better choices of fruit and veg for one of the place’s most valued customers. And then she impressed a load of health-nut-lookin’ snacks onto Mike and normally, he’d chuck ‘em and say that the two of them were brought up on PB&J and goldfish crackers like everyone else, ma’am, but they were already prepped and didn’t seem overwhelmingly portioned, so he decided that this time he’d spend his dime on that cute little brother.
Just this once, though. Don’t go getting any ideas, Matty.
  ---
He got back and dumped everything onto the counter.
So much green, Christ. It was as if he’d bought out the stock of the florist three blocks over.
Whatever.
Healthy body, healthy mind and all that.
He started twisting the greens off carrots and pulling off the outer leaves of cabbage. He found Matt’s Tupperware collection and the biggest bowl he had and set to rinsing and soaking and peeling and chopping.
It took some hunting to find the braille label maker and soon enough, the fridge was crammed with boxes and boxes of bright colors with labels all facing out.
‘Carrot rounds.’
‘Cabbage pieces.’
‘Minced Onion.’
And so on and so on.
Matt still didn’t come out of his room and that was too bad for him because Mike was working his way through the house’s linens now.
All of the towels went into the wash first.
As they went into the drier, the throws went into the wash.
The ballgame played while the towels were folded. Then the throws were replaced with all the pillow cases and a load of socks and clothes Matt didn’t notice Mike stealing from his still-darkened room.
Eventually Mike ran out of things to batter in the machine and so he had to bite the bullet.
He put hands on his hips and stood over Matty, still curled up in that damn duvet, facing away from the door this time.
When they were little, Matt had had a bunny which was kind of like his security blanket. God help them all if they left home without bunny. Dad used to swear Mike to secrecy when he caught him stealing bunny from his and Matt’s bedroom.
Mike had crossed his heart every time, and Dad had always swept him up and let him ride on his shoulders while he did the laundry and Matty napped in the other room.
Dad wasn’t here anymore though, so it fell to Mike as the oldest to do things while Matty slept.
Unfortunately, laundry waits for no man, sleeping, depressed, or otherwise.
“Heya bud,” he said cheerfully to Matt’s duvet. “I got good news and bad news for you.”
Matt mumbled something incoherent into the mattress.
Mike took the opportunity to start prying him out of it. He didn’t love it.
“Ge’ off,” Matt huffed, burrowing.
Mike lifted an eyebrow and balled his fists in the sheets.
“The good news is that its time for a bath, the bad news is that you gotta take it,” he announced.
“Mike, no. Just—go away,” Matt huffed.
Nope.
“Sorry not sorry,” Mike said brightly.
Then he yanked.
  ---
Depression ran in their family like a river. Matty got the worst of it from their mama. Mike got the anxiety from their daddy. It was only fair.
It meant that Mike knew that making Matt take a shower and washing all his bedding against his will would result in tears and bitterness in the short term, but a happier and less apathetic Matt in the long term.
Matt came out of the shower and wanted to go back to bed.
Mike made him curl up on the couch in the sun and the fresh air instead. His room wasn’t done airing.
Matt hated that. He told Mike to fuck off at least twenty times before falling back to sleep, but it was no matter. Mike was used to him being like this.
He kept the game on and sat on the couch arm and ran a few fingers through Matty’s hair when he was good and asleep.
  ----
Bed made.
Room aired.
Brother fed (somewhat).
Wounds examined and redressed.
“Why are you here this time?” Matt asked him as he guided him back to the newly made bed.
“Love,” Mike crooned. “I heard your distress and came running.”
Matt scoffed.
“Money,” he said.
“That too,” Mike beamed. “But the deals will wait.”
“I’m fine, just go,” Matt sighed. He pulled his legs back up onto the bed and set about burying himself in covers once more.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Mike said. “But I’ll be back in a few hours, yeah?”
Matt mumbled under the blankets.
“What’d you say, there friend? Some of us don’t got superhearing, remember?” Mike reminded him.
“I said be careful,” Matt spat.
Oh, right.
That was.
Right.
“I will be,” Mike said, maybe a touch softer than intended.
“Don’t stay out too long,” Matty huffed into his pillow.
“Will do,” Mike said, heading back towards the living room. He stopped with his hand on the doorframe.
Matt made a grumpy questioning sound under the covers.
Mike swallowed.
“You know I love you, right?” he said. “And you’re not alone right now.”
There was a long pause.
“I know,” Matt sighed. “I love you, too. Don’t bet on any horses.”
Mike laughed.
“Stallions only, got it,” he said. “Be back soon!”
He kept the sneakers for the time being.
An eye for an eye.
 ---
92 notes · View notes
yikeswtfmate · 4 years
Text
Saccharine
Summary: Bucky is trying to cook again and Y/N is afraid he will starve to death one of these days. Surely, no one can eat something that smells this horrifying? 
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x you
Warnings: swearing; a small sexual innuendo?; alcohol consumption; that’s it?
A/N: Based on the prompt My neighbour’s at my door, asking if everything’s alright, because it smells like something is burning, and I was only trying to cook for once and this is embarrassing but they decide to help me fix this mess although I’ve changed it a bit
Feels a bit rushed to the end imo, but this is what happens when I’m getting super excited about another idea and I can’t think about anything else
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There’s a distinct smell of burnt onions in the kitchen. I can smell it even from my place on the sofa, distracting me from my phone enough to raise my nose into the air and take a lungful of what now seems to be…rotten eggs? I wouldn’t be so confused if it weren’t for the fact that no one is currently cooking in my kitchen but as I make my way to the open window, I can bet good money that my neighbour is trying to cook again. It’s the third time this week that I’m wondering whether that long-haired handsome man is actually a vulture, coyote or freak of nature because how can someone eat something that smells so vile? His only redemption is that I know thanks to the impossibly thin walls of the building that these cooking endeavours inevitably end up in him ordering takeout after a couple of hours of cursing and what must only be whatever he’s been trying to make dumped into the bin.
This is it, I think. There is literally no possibility that a human being can survive on takeout alone. I go to the bathroom and make myself presentable, because let’s face it, I’m not going to face that pretty man looking like I’ve just hibernated for a week (which I have, but he doesn’t need to know that), put on a pair of slippers and with a long inhale get out of my apartment. In front of his door, I shift my weight from one foot to the other, now my exasperation at his culinary inabilities suddenly vanishing in the face of uncertainty. What if he’ll think I’m rude? What if he has someone over and I’m interrupting? What if he’ll think I’m weird? We’ve never spoken before after all, with the exception of the nods of acknowledgement in the mornings when we would occasionally meet.
As I ponder my decision, there are more curses flowing over the sound of sizzling. Fuck it, this man needs my help or he’ll starve. I knock on his door, waiting for a few seconds after I hear a shouted “coming.” The door flies open and my neighbour, this beautiful specimen of a man, is surrounded by steam and the smell of…does he have a wet dog inside the house? His hair must have been tied at the back, but now long strands are stuck to his sweaty forehead. He brings a hand to his face, wiping away at a red streak, only to be replaced by a black smudge. The kitchen towel he’s holding is dripping with something orange and the sleeve on his other arm is scorched. Has he been trying to cook an armchair?
“Hi. I know this might sound weird, but are you trying to cook?”
“Uh…Yeah. I’m failing miserably, as you can see.” He says with a frown, moving away from the door so I can look inside his apartment, which is now starting to fill with smoke.
“Uh – I think you might want to take off whatever you have on the stove now or the fire alarm will start going off soon.” I advise and with bulging eyes, he just turns around and runs toward the kitchen.
He leaves the door open so I take that as an invitation to come in and close it, just so I can spare the rest of our neighbours from the appalling smell. Following him, I inspect the damage and I can say hand on my heart that I have never in my entire life seen such damage. I let him take the pan off the stove and into the sink, although I should warn him that it’s probably not a good idea to pour cold water onto boiling oil, but I’m not even sure that is oil. I find some paper towels and wipe the cracked eggs off the counter and into a bowl that is full of skinned…peppers? I throw that away after I locate the bin, take a wet washcloth and clean the kitchen island, which is full of burnt meat, I’ll presume. As I inspect a purple sphere surrounded by slices of cucumber on a plate, there’s a grunt in front of me on the other side of the island and I look up with a consoling smile.
“This looks worse than it actually is.” He says.
“Well, it certainly looks better than it smells.”
“That bad, huh?” He scratches the back of his neck and extends a hand after he wipes it on his jeans that are actually covered in flour. “I’m Bucky by the way. I’ve never had the chance to introduce myself.”
“Y/N.” I shake his hand, noticing the rough skin – definitely not a cook then. At least I’ve established he’s not poisoning anyone else. “What were you trying to make anyway?”
“My friend Natalia gave me this Russian recipe for pirozhki, but I’ve just realised that she’s a worse cook than me so I should’ve never trusted her.”
He takes a sit with a grunt and a shake of his head. He offers me the chair next to him, reaching over an opened bottle of wine that was sitting on the island, next to a few mismatched glasses. I grab two, letting him fill them to the brim. It’s one of those nights, apparently.
“I’m pretty sure pirozhki are made with cabbage not…is that hummous?” I frown at yet another plate with an unnamed content that has started to get a green tint.
“It’s alright, I’m used to the cheap noodles by now.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink.
“Tell you what.” I say, now more emboldened by the wine. “I’ll whip up some pasta so you can enjoy some homemade food tonight and I can have some company on this fine Friday evening. What do you say?”
Bucky shifts in his chair to look at me with a confused expression that slowly turns into a soft smile. It suits him so well, rough edges becoming sweet, his eyes suddenly my only focus. It cuts the air out of my lungs, and if I were younger, I would’ve blushed to the roots of my hair. It still manages to make me tighten my grip on the tall glass I am holding.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I insist.”
“I don’t have any spaghetti though.” He says, still smiling, still looking directly into my eyes.
“Oh, I’m not going to cook in here, honey. This whole kitchen needs to be decontaminated, sterilised and cleansed with holy water.”
He laughs, which would have knocked me off my feet if I were standing. It seems this man can be very unhealthy for my state of mind, legs and lungs. With a chuckle he asks me to lead the way, bottle of wine in his hand and we’re now in my kitchen, a place I would have never seen him in in a million years. Maybe in some scattered fantasies, fleeting moments when I remember the broad line of his shoulders right before I fall asleep or the shape of his thighs in that particular pair of jeans he sometimes wears when he’s downstairs checking for his post.
“In my defence, I never had to cook for myself. After I moved to college, Steve would be the one cooking all the time and let me tell you, he did not like it if people meddled with his sauces.” He tells me two hours later after we’ve finished our bowls of pasta and we’re now sitting on the sofa, legs stretched on the coffee table and the tv turned on just for background noise.
“I don’t know, Buck. It’s kind of embarrassing not knowing how to at least make an omelette.” I laugh as he pours what is probably my third glass of wine.
“Now listen here, missy. I ain’t French and I do know how to do one thing.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I know how to pour milk over my cereal.” He says with a serious face. I burst out laughing, dropping the spoon I was holding directly on my t-shirt.
“I’ll tell you something though.” He offers me a napkin from the table, and I try to focus on wiping the chocolate cream off, but I’m suddenly seeing double and everything is ten times funnier, although to be fair, Bucky turned out to be the best company I’ve had in a long time. “I’ve never eaten so well in a whole ass time. But don’t tell Steve that or he’ll rip one of my arms out.”
“I’m sure everything is better than boiled leather, Bucky.” I smile.
“Nuh-uh. The pasta was divine. And this cake…Y/N, I’ll have to marry you just so I can eat this for the rest of my life.”
I bump my shoulder with his, but there is a feeling that I’m not sure I want to ignore. He’s been sweet all night, complimenting the food, which to be fair, in my eyes is not only the way to a man’s heart, but to mine as well. He’s making my heart sticky, a syrup running through veins with viscous sugar and honey, and he’s candy-coated, teeth-rotting saccharine.
*
Bucky knocks on my door the next day, a lazy Saturday that I’ve spent baking cookies and reading a novel that’s been twisting my gut with want. When my eyes meet his, my legs involuntarily twitch, scenes replaying in my head, but the smile I offer in return is nothing but genuine.
“I smell something delicious.” He says instead of a greeting.
I let him in, pouring him a bowl of soup after he reluctantly admits he only ate an apple the whole day. He protests at first, claiming that he only wanted a cookie, but ends up asking for seconds and finishing an entire batch of raspberry filled cookies.
Three hours later, I’m somehow curled up into his side, watching The Office because he committed the heinous crime of never having watched it. He absently curls a strand of my hair around his finger and I’m drifting asleep, wrapped in a cocoon of powdered sugar.
*
“You’re making me fat.” He says, around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
“Excuse you, James. You’re making me an alcoholic.” I retaliate, raising yet another glass of wine.
Bucky is sitting in my kitchen, eating my food, as he’s been doing for nearly every evening for the last four months. We’ve fallen into a strange routine, where he’s just drop by, claiming he smelled “something delicious” on his way in after work and I’d just learned to cook dinner for two without questions. I got so used to spending this time with him, that whenever he’d text he won’t be joining me, it would feel off, somehow unbalanced without him on the other side of the table.
I watch him as he moves around the kitchen with ease, putting the empty dishes in the sink, cutting two slices of cheesecake, pouring me another glass of wine. It felt strange having him in my apartment at first, but now it’s just normal, easy, sweet. He takes the plates with the dessert to the coffee table, and I join him in the living room. He’s already dug into his slice, unholy moans escaping his lips, and I just purse mine. Sometimes I wonder if he does it on purpose.
“Stop judging me, this is heavenly.”
“I’m not judging you, I think you’re an idiot.” I laugh. “It’s just a cheesecake. And I’ve made this before.”
“It’s not just a cheesecake. It is the most marvellous thing ever. It is transcendental.”
“Ok, I think you’ve had enough wine.”
We settle into comfortable silence as I turn on the tv and look through the selection of films that seems pretty slim at the moment, considering the amount of Netflix we’ve been consuming lately. Bucky shifts on the sofa next to me, clears his throat, closes his mouth after opening it to say something, rubs the back of his neck, picks at a piece of strawberry on his plate, turns to me, takes his hair out of its bun, fiddles with the band.
“Spit it out already.” I say, without even sparing him a glance. He does this sometimes, this little dance of his when he locks himself up and is unsure of how to voice whatever’s on his mind. I continue to look through the list of unwatched films, but I have a feeling I’ll just introduce him to Parks and Recreation tonight, because this man has apparently been living under a rock for the past century.
“My birthday’s coming up soon. I was wondering if you’d like to come? I’m not throwing a huge party, just a little get together with some friends over at my place. I’ll just buy some beer and order pizza, but I’d like you to be there as well.”
He’s looking at me expectantly, uncertainty clear in his voice, which is stupid because he could ask me anything and I’d do it without second thoughts by this point.
“Of course, you moron.” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I’ll be expecting my formal invitation in the mail though.”
*
It’s two weeks later and I am running so late. My mother insisted to have a girls’ day out, which I’ve tried getting out of, considering that a) I know my mother too well not to be aware that even dinners with her usually take decades to end, b) my very cute neighbour is expecting me to make an appearance at his birthday party, and most importantly, c) I haven’t seen him for three days already and I miss his smile more than anything. As the hours have been progressing, my fidgeting became worse, to the point that mum had enough of it and finally released me of my captivity, two hours later than I promised I’ll be there.
“That boy better be worth it.” She laughed, holding me in a hug as we were parting. “I hope you’re feeding him well.”
I am now faced with his closed door, voices and laughter interlacing in the apartment before me, and I suddenly feel very nervous, a reminder of the first time I knocked at Bucky’s door. I hope his friends like me, not only because I have been programmed since birth to need to be loved by everyone, but also because I gathered from all my conversations with Bucky that he holds his friends’ opinions in high regard. I better not fuck this up, I think and with a deep breath, I knock on the door.
Someone shouts after Bucky, and I can distinctly hear a commotion set into motion, that makes me wary. There are yells, a loud line of cursing, and the clatter of what must only be a shattered glass on the hard tile of the kitchen. The door opens and I’m greeted by a man who’s holding a bottle of beer and looks as if he’d just stepped out of a Fourth of July commercial.
“You must be Y/N. Come in.” Mister America says and lets me step in.
The first thing I see is Bucky being held in a headlock by another man who seems too happy to be sober or sorry that his friend can’t breathe at the moment. Bucky looks like he’s trying to fight against an eagle, flailing around like an overexcited puppy. I am standing in the middle of the hallway, trying to stifle the burst of laughter that is taking hold of me.
“Come on, Barnes, don’t be rude. Your girlfriend’s here and you won’t even say hi to her? Where are your manners? I thought you couldn’t wait to see her after you’ve been worried all night she won’t show up.” Bird Boy says.
I raise my eyebrows, but Stars and Stripes is the only one that can notice my reaction. “That’s Sam.” He says nodding to his wrestling friends. “You probably already know that their relationship is…intense. I’m Steve, by the way. We’ve all heard a lot about you.”
A hand slams onto Steve’s shoulder before I try to pry information out of him. Bucky seems to have broken free, Sam closely following him, and I’m now faced with three broad-shouldered men that could easily pass for the planet’s bodyguards. I extend the cake tin to Bucky and he takes it, looking at me with those huge eyes that would be more fit for a cartoon character.
“Did you bake something for me?” He asks incredulous.
“Figured you’re too much of a dumbass to order a cake, so…” I shrug.
Bucky gives Steve the tin, without even opening it, as I would have expected him to do. I worry at my bottom lip, thinking maybe I overstepped or that a bottle of wine would’ve been more fitting, when he literally swipes me off my feet in a hard embrace. He snuggles his face into my neck, tickling my cheek with strands of his hair, and I can clearly smell the alcohol on him. He’s drunk, I realise, which can only mean that he’s past the point of being funny, now he’s just going to downright say whatever’s on his mind.
“Easy there, tiger. You’re gonna break her spine.” I can hear a woman passing by saying, but it’s too muffled by Bucky’s entire display of affection to figure out whether that’s Natalia or not.
“You didn’t have to bake me a cake.” Bucky murmurs. “You are enough.”
“I wanted to, Buck. Happy birthday, honey.” I say when he finally lets go off me and I can stand on my own two feet again. He brushes his thumb over my cheek and looks at me for a long moment, until he takes my hand in his and drags me into the living room, where there are more people sitting on the sofa, on the armchairs, and even on the floor.
“Everyone, this is Y/N. She saved me from starvation, she is the love of my life, she has the softest hair that I’ve ever touched in my entire existence and if anyone lies a finger on her, they’ll be dead within the minute, just so you all jackasses know, so don’t try anything, Thor!” Bucky announces with a flourish of his hand.
There’s no time to process what he just said, as his guests start yelling their hellos and introduce themselves. I try to shake as many hands as possible, and even give hugs back when they’re offered, and I’m surprised to notice that it seems as if I already know all these people from Bucky’s stories.
A few hours later, I’m sitting next to Bucky on the floor of the living room, after being lured into playing a variation of Truth or Dare, that would make no sense for a sober person. There’s yelling, popcorn flying over heads when a dare is not deigned to be fulfilled, empty bottles scattered around the floor, and too many paper plates to count. I wonder fleetingly how much all of this will take to clean tomorrow morning and I make a mental note to offer my help, before a hand rests on my knee. I turn to look at Bucky, who seems unaware of his actions, his vision clearly hazy with alcohol, but I’ve also consumed enough to just enjoy it and not read too much into it. I lean my chin on his shoulder, which makes him cut his shout short and direct his attention to me. Our faces are a few inches away from each other, alcohol mixing from our breaths, pupils dilating in the dim light, and we sit there, looking at each other before a cushion comes flying right to our heads.
“Get a room!” Someone shouts and there’s an eruption of laughter, but no one else pays any attention to us anymore.
Bucky stands up and holds his hand out to me. I take it and follow him through the apartment without a word. He leads me to the fire escape, climbing out the window into the fresh cold air. With a shiver, I take the space between his legs, leaning my back on his chest and letting him warm me up with his arms. He’s the one to rest his chin on my shoulder now, and I play with his thumb, suddenly more sober than I was in the heated apartment, but I have to know, before my ounce of bravery is gone.
“Did you mean it?” I whisper, half wondering whether he’s too drunk to understand what I’m saying.
“What?”
“Back there. When you introduced me.”
“That you saved me from starvation? Well, yeah, did you forget I am completely useless in the kitchen?” He laughs.
“Not that.” But I really don’t want to give him any more clarifications.
“That you have the softest hair?” He murmurs into my ear, kissing my temple. “You do. That I’ll kill anyone who would even look wrong at you?” He kisses my cheek. “That you are the love of my life? I’m not a hundred percent sure about that, but I’m more than certain that I’ve never loved anyone the way that I already do you. And I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
The angle is strange, him towering over me although he’s only sitting a step above me, his arm wrapped around mine, while his other hand makes its way around my face, pulling it towards his. Strands of his hair fall over his eyes, but I can see the gentleness in them in the light pouring out from the kitchen. His nose brushes over my brow, breath ghosting over my skin until I close my eyes and his lips are like honey, melting like butter in a hot summer day. I feel syrup pouring over my soul, coating it in cotton candy, that leaves my insides sticky with sugar.
“Now I’m certain.” He whispers and I smile. I kiss his nose and snuggle closer into his arms. We stay like that for some time, that could have been either hours or mere minutes, the party dying down slowly inside the house. The sky is still dark, and I’m slowly drifting to sleep, but from Bucky’s shiver I know we should be going back, although he won’t admit it.
“You wanna know a secret?” He asks.
“Yeah?” I really don’t want to move
“My only saving grace is that compared to the kitchen, I’m amazing in the bedroom.”
I groan and bump my shoulder into his chest. This man will be the death of me. I climb my way back inside, closely followed by Bucky who is laughing behind me. He grabs my wrist and turns me around, loosely resting his arms on my hips and looking down at me through clear eyes. At least he’s sober now.
“Thank you for making my birthday wish come true.”
“You wished for a birthday cake?” I snort with a raised eyebrow.
He kisses my forehead and murmurs sugar-coated word into my skin. “I wished for you.”
***
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178 notes · View notes
sunflowerbi · 4 years
Text
The Way to a Woman’s Heart
Eve/Villanelle
Rating: T
1.79k words
Eve cooks traditional Korean food for Villanelle, and Villanelle cooks traditional Russian food for Eve. They both refuse to admit they like it, because they're dramatic. Plus they kiss because they're gay.
ao3
“It is not that I do not trust you, it is just that I do not trust this… black goop.” Villanelle was perched on a counter in the small kitchen of their apartment, trying to convince Eve to just order takeout.
“It’s not goop, darling. It’s chunjang, bean paste. It’s good, I promise you’ll like it.” Eve continued chopping the zucchini in front of her, throwing it into a bowl with cabbage she’d already cut. She grabbed a pan from the cabinet next to Villanelle, dropping a kiss on her lips in passing, before grabbing the goop, as it’d been titled, and pouring it into the pan. “You fry it with oyster sauce and sugar.” She noted, adding in the ingredients as she named them. While it was cooking, she pulled the cubed pork from the fridge, smiling as she added the marinade of ginger, rice wine, salt, and pepper. The kitchen had filled with the smell of home, and Eve realized just how much she’d missed cooking the traditional food her mom had managed to teach her. Between late nights at work and Niko’s interest in cooking, she hadn’t done it in longer than she could remember.
“It does not smell horrible, but I still do not think I will like it.” They’d been having this discussion all day, Eve insisting there were a few things she actually could cook, and Villanelle refusing to believe her. When Eve announced that she would be making jajangmyeon, Villanelle argued that they could always find a restaurant that served Korean barbeque. When Eve turned around to fill a pot with water, Villanelle smiled fondly, Eve looked wonderful, in their kitchen, in their apartment. She was beautiful, and she was happy, which filled Villanelle with a slightly unfamiliar feeling, something like pride but happier, like love but bigger. Instead of mentioning any of this to Eve, she rolled her eyes when the older woman looked at her.
“I think you will. Can you grab the noodles for me?” Eve asked, mostly ignoring the assassin’s complaints. She took the noodles Villanelle dutifully handed to her, dumping the package into a boiling pot of water. “It shouldn’t be long now; the pork is almost done and then I just have to mix the stock in with the chunjang.” Eve smiled, she knew Villanelle would enjoy it, although something told her she’d never admit it. She pulled the strainer out and dumped the noodles, grabbing one and offering it to Villanelle to test. Villanelle took the opportunity to suck the noodle into her mouth, taking Eve’s finger along with it, smirking.
“Is it done?” Eve asked, attempting to ignore Villanelle’s tongue rolling around her index finger, eventually pulling it out before her breathing betrayed her.
“Yes. Although I was not.” Villanelle pouted, trying and failing to catch Eve’s wrist again. Eve laughed and served the noodles into two bowls, pouring the simmering sauce over top. She poured two small glasses of soju, handing a bowl and glass to Villanelle before taking her own and heading to the table.
As soon as they sat down, Eve took a bite of her food, the sweet and savory mixing perfectly in her mouth and reminding her of happy evenings with her parents, of her first week of college, eating prepared meals her mom gave her. She looked over at her girlfriend, her brain still tripped over that word sometimes, girlfriend, it made her feel like a seventeen-year-old on her way to prom. She watched her girlfriend take a small bit onto her fork, looking at it like it might be poisoned. Eventually, though, she took a bite, cautiously putting it into her mouth. Ever the mystery, she kept her face neutral, taking another bite as if she needed more to make her judgment.
“It is fine.” Is all she said, taking another bite, holding her face very carefully. It was hard for Villanelle, eating slowly, feigning disinterest. She ate like she did all things, with zest, passionately going after any and everything she wanted. This time, she put small bites into her mouth, she didn’t vocalize her feelings. She refused to admit to Eve that it tasted wonderful, tasted how being with Eve felt, new but perfectly familiar, like the universe meant it that way and was so entirely happy to see it finally come to be. Instead she nodded, avoiding Eve’s curious eyes.
Thirty minutes later, they worked with each other to put the leftovers away, packaging it all and rinsing the dishes off. “Did you really not like it?” Eve still had trouble reading Villanelle sometimes, trying to figure out when she was lying.
“I told you, it was fine.” Villanelle smiled, leaning down to distract Eve with a kiss, her hands finding their place in Eve’s hair. “I will make you kotleti tomorrow, you will love it.”
-
“Can you hand me an onion, moyo sladkaya?” Villanelle asked, placing small, colorful potatoes into a bowl. Eve handed it over, watching Villanelle move through the kitchen like she’d been cooking in it for years, not just the two months they’d been hidden away here. She chopped the onion expertly, dumping half of the pieces in with the potatoes and tossing it all with oil and various herbs. After being spread onto a pan she stuck them into the oven and set to work on the kotleti. Villanelle had mixed feelings about Russia, and everything attached to it. She hated being there, hated the people she’d known there, the life she’d lived. The food though, still made her warm inside, reminded her of the few good points in her childhood, learning to steal from street vendors and hiding in a dark alley with warm food settling into her stomach.
“It is important to soak the bread in the milk first, otherwise it will be shit.” Villanelle explained as she tore up the bread and placed it into a bowl of milk, mixing it around a bit.
“I still don’t see how this is any different from a bad chicken meatball.” Eve stretched, raising her eyebrows at Villanelle, who only rolled her eyes. Honestly, it smelled amazing, but Eve refused to let Villanelle win. She had insisted on pretending she didn’t really like the jajangmyeon, but when Eve woke up the next morning, she noticed the leftovers were gone, and when Villanelle kissed her, she tasted like ginger. If Villanelle was going to play this game, Eve would too.
“It is not a meatball. Nor is it bad. So, that is how it is different.” Villanelle said plainly, beginning to mix the rest of the onion with the bread and the ground chicken, adding in various spices. She loved food, the way it could make people feel, the way a woman sounded when she ate something she really loved, the face someone made when they saw their favorite food. She spooned the meat into the pan, forming it into oblong patties. The pan sizzled loudly, the oil jumping around as the meat began to cook. She knew Eve would never admit to liking the food, but she would be able to tell, Eve was not as good at lying as she was, she wouldn’t be able to hide it as much.
“The table is ready, are the potatoes done, sweetheart?” Eve’s hand slid across the small of Villanelle’s back as she walked behind her, a kiss landing on her shoulder. She grabbed the medovukha Villanelle had picked out and poured it into their wine glasses, swirling the amber liquid around a bit.
“They are, yes. I just have to put them into a bowl so we can take them to the table. Then we can eat.” The potatoes and onions fell easily into the bowl, Villanelle using a spoon to help them along. “Will you bring the drinks? I assume the kotleti is already on the table.”
They ate quietly, Villanelle watching Eve carefully as she took the first bite of her kotleti, looking for any indication, positive or negative. She found Eve was better than she’d expected at keeping her expressions neutral, but little smiles gave her away, even as Villanelle inquired as to how she was enjoying her meal.
“It’s fine.” Eve smirked, impressed with herself, probably more than she should’ve been, giving Villanelle’s answer back to her. She took another bite, holding her smile back best as she could. The food tasted warm, filling, like the kind of food you bring to a friend to cheer them up. She watched Villanelle eat, quickly gathering bites of meat and potato into her mouth, pausing to savor the taste before getting more. She looked content, more so than she usually did when she ate, which said something. She had her usual passion but there was something else there too, and if Eve had to guess she’d say it looked like nostalgia.
“That is all? Just fine?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Eve ate the leftovers as soon as Villanelle fell asleep.
-
“You know, if you want me to make hoddeok again you could just ask, you don’t have to casually leave the recipe on the counter.” Eve smiled fondly at Villanelle, who was lying on the couch, reading some book she’d picked up at the store across the street.
“That would ruin the fun of our little game, rodnaya.” She didn’t look up, flipping the page as she continued to read. She really tried not to push it; she didn’t say anything when she bought the ingredients at the store, but it’d been a week and all she could think about was the honey and cinnamon filled pancake Eve had made her, fluffy and sweet, slightly sticky. So, she’d left the recipe out, hoping it would inspire Eve to cook them again without being asked,
“Hm, I suppose it would, yes. Although I think it’s well past ruined, and I could really go for some solyanka tomorrow, but you won’t cook it unless you pick out the meat yourself, so I can’t just sneakily buy it all.” Eve noted, taking the book from Villanelle’s hands and straddling her. “I think maybe we can just admit defeat, call it a tie, hm?”
Villanelle rested her now empty hands on Eve’s hips, slipping them under her shirt. “I suppose that could be acceptable, but only if I can have some sujeonggwa as well. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. You make solyanka for dinner and I make sujeonggwa for dessert.” Eve leaned down, kissing Villanelle gently, trying to express the enormity of what she felt. She wasn’t sure there was a way to do that, to convey how much she adored the blonde.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
That would have to do, for now.
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daebakinc · 4 years
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Hero Among Thorns - Pt 4
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Pairing: Hyunwoo x Reader Genre: Undercover Detective AU, Action, Romance Word Count: 2.5K Summary: When a mistaken connection results in your kidnapping by one of the city’s most notorious gangs, the undercover detective Hyunwoo has no choice but to rescue and protect you, and, most dangerously of all, fall in love with you. Warning: Mentions of violence and blood. Parts: See Masterlist for previous parts. (Sorry, but Tumblr won’t show posts with links in tag searches.
“But you have to.” Minhyuk stares you down, his happy demeanor gone without a trace. “Didn’t you hear what we just said Yew has done? You can’t just let him walk free.”
“I also heard that all your witnesses end up dead. Getting shot once is an experience I don’t want to repeat, especially if the next time ends with me not breathing.” You drop your face into your hands. Your heart beats in a rabid tattoo, hastened by imagining your dead body sprawled bloody in some dingy alley or dumped in some lonely shallow grave no one will ever find you in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well I did, but I want to put this guy who can’t even do his homework and kidnaps the wrong person in jail, clearly. It’s just… do you have any idea how scary this is?”
“The other witnesses never had us. Our team is the best there is,” Hyungwon says.
“No one is getting close to you unless we let them,” Hyunwoo adds so firmly you almost believe him.
Almost.
You shake your head and hug your knees. It does little to comfort you. “I don't know.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, but you know everyone hears you.
Minhyuk lets out a huff that's somewhere between frustrated and disgusted. The legs of the couch squeak against the floor with the force of him standing. You instinctively pull your legs closer to distance yourself from his angry disapproval. Without giving you another glance, he crosses in front of you. A few seconds later, the door to the apartments slams behind him.
“Don't mind him,” Hoseok says, breaking the tense silence. “Min's just tired and ready to go home. This hasn't been the easiest mission for us.”
“I'm sorry,” you instinctively reply. You're already regretting your impulsive statement. A lot.
“Don't be.” Hoseok smiles, rolls his shoulders as he stands, and crosses the carpet to give your uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He'll be fine by the morning. Don't worry about all this. Just concentrate on getting better.”
Hoseok looks to Hyunwoo, asking, “We'll see you two at the shop tomorrow?”
Hyunwoo shakes his head. “I'll probably stay here with her for a few days. Might look weird if I go right back to work when my girlfriend was almost killed. Yew's going to be keeping a close eye on us for awhile. Watch your backs.”
“Always. Come on, Hyungwon. I'll give you a ride back.”
Hyungwon dislodges himself from the couch, flashing a salute at Hyunwoo and nodding at you before following Hoseok out the door.
“Guess I better head out, too,” Kihyun says, “since I open tomorrow. Need to be there early for that parts-shipment from Kyushu.”
Changkyun goes to the counter to slip his laptop and tablet into their respective cases. “Can you drop me by my place? I rode with Minhyuk but I doubt that asshole remembered and stuck around.”
“Sure.”
They both say good-night and leave. Jooheon follows, but only after checking your vitals again and repeating his instructions for your medication to Hyunwoo.
Silence fills the space left behind. Mentally exhausted from having to go through the night over and over again, you slump on the couch. Opposite you, Hyunwoo sits in his armchair, lost in thought or half asleep, you can’t tell. With being an undercover agent, keeping up chatter with someone not on his team probably isn’t a frequent occurrence.
As you open your mouth to ask if you can get more items from your apartment eventually, Hyunwoo gets up and moves toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” he asks.
You think about it before replying, “No, thanks. Do you have any tea though?”
“I should.” He squats down to look in a cabinet and you glance away from the lovely view provided by the sweatpants. Where isn’t this guy perfect? “Ah, yeah, here it is. There’s raspberry, green, and honey chamomile. Kihyun can pick us up more if you prefer something else.”
“Chamomile is fine for now, please. Thank you.”
“Sure.”
Curiosity gets the better of you after Hyunwoo turns the electric kettle on and sets out a green ceramic mug beside it. He starts rummaging through the refrigerator. You see him glance at you from the corner of his eye as you climb onto a stool on the opposite side of the counter. But he doesn’t comment, continuing to place different things on the counter.
A packet of kimchi. A can of spam. Eggs. Cabbage. Soy sauce. Sesame oil. Packaged noodles.
Your stomach gives a muffled gurgle. Maybe you will take him up on his offer of a meal.
With quiet competence, Hyunwoo moves around the kitchen with the uncommon ease of a man who knows his way around cooking, measuring, prepping. When the kettle boils, he pours the water over the teabag and sets the mug in front of you with a small bowl of sugar and a dainty bottle of honey shaped like a teddy bear.
As he turns, you ask, “You don’t talk a lot do you?” Realizing you sounded rude, you add, “Not that anything’s wrong with that. It’s nice being around someone who’s okay with not talking.”
Hyunwoo shrugs. “I’m not always good at it. I make things awkward when I speak sometimes, so I don’t unless I need to usually. Does it make you uncomfortable that I don’t?”
“No, no. Definitely not.”
He smiles and turns back to his work.
After fixing your tea to your liking, there's nothing else to do but wait. But you can only sit still so long. You never did do well sitting idle. “Can I help?”
“Sure.”
Despite his quick answer, Hyunwoo has to look around for something to give you. He finally settles on giving you some cabbage to shred for the soup. You clumsily grip one end of the leaves with your injured side’s hand as you tear, your tongue unconsciously poking out the corner of your lips. Quickly, the only noises in the apartment return to the clicks of utensils and rips of your work.
With how chaotic your days usually are, the majority of your hours full of people whining, yelling, and demanding in your ears, quiet when you get home is welcome. But it isn’t always so. More often than you would care to admit, when you’re alone in your apartment in worn pajamas, sitting on your couch with your laptop and a snack in peace, the quiet reminds you how alone you are. No roommate, not even a fish for a pet. Your dating life has been about as dead as Frankenstein's wife. For years now. An embarrassing number of years.
You had underestimated the comfort of having another living, breathing human living in the same space as you when you shared a room with a friend in university. The knowledge that someone else was there, that you could talk to them if you wanted, reach out to touch them. Someone to share your thoughts with that wasn’t yourself. Someone to just kick back and enjoy a movie and pizza with without having to deal with the pressure of maintaining the perfect, polite image work and dates demand.
Yes, you were lonely. Are lonely. If that somehow lowered your standards for human interaction, so be it. Yet, you didn’t feel like you were settling for Hyunwoo’s quiet. Like the man himself, it feels solid, wholesome. Even if it is literally now Hyunwoo’s job to keep you around, you appreciate his company. Watching his hands as he cooks and listening to him clink and bang around the kitchen, the normalcy of it, brings back the warmth to your bones as much as his hoodie does.
“You sure you’re not hungry?”
Meeting Hyunwoo’s eyes through the steam of the cooking ham slices, you shrug with a half-smile. “Maybe a little.”
“I figured you would be.” He takes two bowls from the cabinet. Smoothly, he deposits a healthy amount of noodles into one of them and puts it in front of you. The steam of the soup mingles with that of the two slices of ham he places on top of the noodles. Together, they may be the best thing you've ever smelled.
Kihyun's soup earlier hadn't been bad, but it'd been decidedly bland. Probably under Jooheon's orders. As soon as your spoonful of Hyunwoo's soup hits your tongue, it's heaven. Salty, earthy, noodly heaven.
You rush another spoonful to your mouth, happily chewing away at the ham. As you go for a third, you pause, the hair on the back of your neck tingling. Looking up, you realize Hyunwoo is watching you. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, mouth tilted in a smile that shows just a hint of teeth.
“That good?” he asks in an amused tone.
It takes conscious effort not to drop the spoon in embarrassment. You just stuffed your face like a heathen in front of one of the most attractive people you've crossed paths with in awhile. Like an idiot.
Lowering your spoon and your eyes, you sheepishly reply. “Yeah. It's really good.”
“Good.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Oh,” he sets down the bowl he'd picked up for himself and drags a bag of medication, “you should take these now. Jooheon said you should take them with food, remember?”
You nod and gulp down the pills as Hyunwoo serves himself. The earlier quiet descends again, broken only by your spoons clinking against the sides of your bowls and the occasional slurped noodle. It's beyond nice.
Just as before, it hits you how isolated you've been the last few months of your life. When you think about it, it's hard to tell if it was because of your job and its accompanying exhaustion or your personal choice. Maybe a little of both.
“Want more?”
Hyunwoo’s words break through your mood. Noticing your bowl is empty, you shake your head and push it away. “I’m good, thanks.”
“No problem.” He takes the dish and puts it in the sink, looking back at you. “Does your shoulder hurt?”
“No. Why?”
“You’re frowning.”
Not for the first time, you lament your utter lack of a poker face. Admitting just getting to eat with someone made you over the moon isn’t an attractive option. “No, it's fine. It feels pretty dull. I was just...”
You run a hand through your hair out of habit. The strands feel greasy. A perfect excuse. “I was just wishing I could wash my hair. But it'd be really hard to do without getting the bandages wet. Maybe we could cover it with something to keep it dry? Like wrap a garbage bag or plastic?”
“That should be okay. I might have a spare trash bag.” He reaches towards the cabinet under the sink, but pauses before opening the door. Hyunwoo straightens and says, “Or you could just wash it here if you just need to wash your hair.”
“Here as in the kitchen sink?”
“Why not? I’ll just move the dishes to one side. It has one of those hose things so that would make it easier to rinse. That way your bandages don't have to get wet at all. I've had to wash my hair in a sink a lot when a shower wasn't an option.”
“I guess that'll work...”
He smiles. “I'll get the shampoo and a towel for you.”
You refill the space in front of the sink after Hyunwoo vacates, eyeballing the hose. Maybe if you just bend forward with your face in the sink that could work. But then the shampoo would get in your eyes. You try bending backwards, but the height of the counter proves your undoing. Even with your flexibility, a must for a dancer, your head barely comes anywhere near the sink.
Still half bent over backwards, you glare at the upside-down sink. “Stupid,” you mutter.
“Is that comfortable?”
You stumble as you right yourself to find Hyunwoo returned with a fluffy black towel and a very large black shampoo bottle. “No. Maybe the sink isn’t such a good idea. Even with the hose, I think it would be too weird an angle.”
Putting the towel and bottle down, he studies the sink. His fingers drum against his hips as he thinks. Hyunwoo grabs one of the stools and pulls it around the counter. He moves around you to put it in front of the sink. “If you sit on this, I can wash it for you.”
“You’d do that?” you ask, caught by surprise. You haven’t had anyone else wash your hair since you were a child. Not even when you get a haircut. Certainly no past boyfriend had ever offered.
“It’s not like women wash their hair any different from men.” Hyunwoo says. “Or do they?”
You can’t help your laugh. “I guess not. Okay, thanks.”
He nods and hands you the towel. Once you have it draped around your neck with your bandaged arm safely covered, you slowly lean back until the back of your neck touches the cool metal of the sink. Hyunwoo leans over you to turn on the water. As you stare up at his chest, just how big he is hits you all over again.
Thank goodness he’s on your side. 
You jerk in surprise when instead of the warm water you were expecting, Hyunwoo’s palm comes to your forehead and pushes it back. Despite your discomfort, you keep your mouth shut. He’s doing you a favor afterall.
But when Hyunwoo starts trying to massage the shampoo into your hair like it’s a stubborn stain in a rug, you hiss and clap your good hand over his. “Ow!”
He stops immediately and asks in a worried tone, “Did I hurt you?” 
“Just a little softer, please.” Readjusting to a more comfortable position, you move your hand on top of one of his. It doesn’t quite fit, but Hyunwoo lets you manipulate his fingers in much gentler motions. He seems to get the hang of it after a few moments, but you keep your hand where it is a little longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand feels too good.
“Sorry, for hurting you,” he says. “Never done this before.”
Snatching your hand back into your lap, you reply, “So you're not like the Zohan.” You chuckle at your own joke.
“The what?” He stops.
“The Zohan. Zohan Dvir. From 'You Don't Mess with the Zohan.' The Adam Sandler movie?”
“Never seen it.” Hyunwoo shakes his head and shrugs apologetically.
“It’s okay. It’s kind of a lot of stupid, but it’s good for when you want to just laugh. You don’t have to think about anything. It’s about an Israeli special forces agent who fakes his own death so he can pursue his dream of being a hairstylist.”
“Seriously?” He laughs, which makes you smile. It’s too cute.
“Yeah. I haven’t watched it in forever. Too many movies to watch, too little time.”
“You like to watch movies?”
You’re grateful for the excuse to close your eyes when he starts rinsing your hair. “It passes the time well when you’re alone a lot.”
To your surprise, Hyunwoo answers, “I get that. I sleep or workout, but movies sound fun. Sorry, I don't have anything more girly smelling, by the way. I can ask one of the guys to grab you some of whatever you like using from the store and drop it off.”
“It’s okay. Yours smells good.” You open your eyes when you feel Hyunwoo lift the towel from your front so he can help you sit up. He drapes the towel around your shoulders and starts drying your hair. His hands are much gentler than before so you can’t help but sag into your seat a little. The simple comfort makes you feel like a cat, ready to curl in a purring ball. “Are you sure you’re a secret agent?”
“Pretty sure.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why?”
“You’re better at this than you think.” And despite his size, he has the personality of a teddy bear. It’s hard to equate the person tenderly drying your hair with the badass who rescued you.
“You have to be a quick study to survive at this job. Otherwise you don’t stay alive long.” His voice lacks any hardness in spite of the bluntness of his statement, as if he’s just stating a normal fact. Hyunwoo pauses, then says, “That was a little dark, wasn’t it?”
“A little, but I guess it’s true. You can’t deal with the underbelly of humanity and get by on a whim.” Hesitating, you add, “Thank you, by the way.”
“No need for that. It’s just hair.”
“I mean for saving me from those men.” You feel Hyunwoo’s hands slow, but keep your eyes straight ahead. “I don’t think I said that to you yet, but really, thank you.”
“It was nothing. Just another day for us.”
Just another day. And you’re just another mission, you remind yourself. Your gaze falls to your hands as you fight that tiny feeling of disappointment. “Oh. And I’m sorry for pulling the gun on you.”
That makes Hyunwoo laugh again. He comes in front of you and leans against the counter, still smiling. “It was empty, remember? No harm, no foul.”
“Still… it wasn’t nice.”
“Trust me, I’ve had much more dangerous people point loaded guns at me. I’ll take you pointing an unloaded one at me any day.”
“Are you saying I wasn’t intimidating?” you ask, only half-joking.
He smiles and walks away with the towel and shampoo. “Yes.”
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fattywrites · 4 years
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Cheap, Simple Recipes
So I’ve put together 10 of my cheapest recipes. Each one - according to my grocery costs - runs about ~$5 to feed ~6 people (or one very, very hungry fatty). 
1. cabbage and sausage >>put like half a stick of butter in a pan (this is necessary). Get in melting. Go in with a sliced onion and one of those rul cheap smoked sausage links cut into slices (I cut mine super thin so that I get more bites of sausage). When the sausage is looking brown and the onions are soft, hit it with an entire head of cabbage. You can cut the cabbage how you want to. Sometimes I slice it thin like slaw, and this only takes like 40 minutes. Other times I cut it in bite-size squares, and this takes an hour and a half. It’s up to you. Anyway throw a whole head of cabbage sans core in there. If you can barely stir the pan, you’re doing it right. Season with seasoned salt or creole seasoning (or regular salt, I guess) and let it cook covered low and slow, stirring it like every 10-15 minutes until the cabbage is all softened and buttery and your mouth is watering. I honestly make this like every two weeks cuz it’s life, so be warned, it’s addictive.
2. haluski >>Shred an entire head of cabbage and start melting some butter in a rul big sautee pan. When the butter’s melted throw in the cabbage. You can also throw in a sliced onion if you want. Don’t forget to salt and pepper (I use creole seasoning, keep in interesting). Get that going. Heat a pot of salted water (I use creole seasoning to salt the water, too. No chill) to a boil while the cabbage is going. Add in a bag of egg noodles to the water, cook & drain them. The cabbage should be ready. Add in the egg noodles. Carefully fry them up with the cabbage, adding more butter if you need to. Once it’s getting a little crispy, take it off the heat and serve.
3. congris >>I’m going to be honest, I have about 7 different recipes for congris and I don’t remember which one is my favorite so I’m going to give you 2 options Option one: drain a can of black beans over a measuring cup. Get a sauce pot hot with some coconut oil, fry up a lil garlic, a small onion, and like half of a green bell pepper. Add in 2 cups rice and fry it in the oil for 3 mins (I actually set a timer cuz I’m bad at noticing when the rice is toasted). Hit it with the beans, then take your measuring cup to your water supply and fill it to the 3 cup mark (move fast don’t burn your rice). Add the water in (stand back it’s gone bubble up). Mix it. Season it with EITHER adobo seasoning OR a chicken bouillon cube (Maggi is the best ijs). Add a touch of oregano. Bring it to the boil, boil it until the water’s looking kind of evaporated and you can see the rice, then cover it, drop it to low, and let it steam for 30 minutes. You actually want the rice to be dry not sticky, and for there to be a crust on the bottom of the pan. Option two: drain a can of black beans over a measuring cup. Get a sauce pot hot with some coconut oil and fry up like a 1/4 or a 1/3 cup of sofrito (the green one. It has a different name in the grocery store but literally everyone I know whose latinx calls them both sofrito lmao). This is not going to take long. Add in your 2 cups rice, toast it 3 minutes. Add the black beans in. Fill your bean-juice filled cup up to 3 cups, add it in. Use EITHER adobo seasoning to taste OR add a chicken cube (Maggi is best). Boil it until the extra water has evaporated off, drop it to low-low and cover it, let it cook 30 minutes until the rice is cooked by dry and there’s a crust on the bottom of the pan.
4. split pea soup >>Heat your oil of choice in the bottom of a pot, then add in some onion, garlic, a carrot cut into pieces, and if you have any, some sweet pepper. Let it cook a little. Wash and drain 2 cups (or a 1lb bag) of split peas. Add them in. Cover in water, add in chicken bouillon for your salt, then throw in a leftover steak bone. Cook for 2-3 hours or until the peas have turned to mush. Can be eaten on its own but I like to crumble a piece of corn bread in the bottom of my bowl and then ladle the soup over it, oh ma god.
5. bacon beans >>Cut up like half a package to a full package of bacon and fry them in your soup pot. When the fat is rendered out, add in 1-2 jalepenos diced finely with their membranes and seeds removed (you can put the seeds if you want but that’ll make this rul spicy). Wash and sort 2 cups or a 1 lb bag of dry pinto beans (no soaking required). Add them into the pot when the bacon’s looking incredible, then add enough water to cover the beans by like an inch. Add a chicken bouillon cube and about 1/3 cup of red salsa (whatever’s in your fridge is fine). Mix it up, and cook it covered (or uncovered if it looks soupy) for a few hours. It’s done when the beans are soft and tender and when your entire house smells so good you don’t even know what to do about it. Like the split pea soup, I usually serve this over a crumbled up slice of corn bread.
6. ham and peas >>Dice up a package of fully cooked ham (you can use those precut ham chunks, you can use a ham slice, you can use ham slices for sandwiches if that’s all you have, you can also use smoked sausage cut in quarters and diced or hot dogs diced up, I won’t tell on you lol). Add a good amount of butter to a sauce pan, add some sliced garlic, put it on medium heat, go in with your ham and sautee it. When it’s starting to get brown, add in a bag of frozen peas. Let it heat through and mix around until the peas are that gorgeous bright green color they get. Then take it off the heat. This literally takes like 10 minutes.
7. pasta e ceci >>fun fact, I got this recipe from my Italian Renaissance history professor. This dish predates the use of tomatoes in Italy and it was a staple dish among the peasants. Put some olive oil in a pan. Slice up a few garlic cloves, put them in the cold oil, then turn the heat on. Once that’s sizzling dump in a can of chickpeas with their juices. Add a little bit more water to make sure they’re covered, change the heat to high. Add adobo seasoning (or salt, I guess) and like a half tablespoon of dried rosemary depending on how old your rosemary is. Let it boil for like 5 minutes, then mash 1/2-3/4 of the chickpeas. Add in 2 cups of a small pasta shape - elbows, shells, bowties, etc - then add enough water to cover the pasta by like an inch. Still on high heat, cook it, stirring occasionally, until the pasta is done and the chickpea sauce is thicc. This takes about 15 minutes but it also depends on how much water you add and I am a lawless hellion who doesn’t measure things so I can’t help you there. This tastes amazing asf though.
8. beans and greens >>Soake a 1lb bag of washed/sorted white beans the night before.Day of, add garlic to a good amount of butter or olive oil in a soup pot, then heat it. Water your outdoor plants with the bean water, then add the beans to the pot and add fresh water to cover the beans by an inch or two. Add in some chicken bouillon as salt, a can of diced tomatoes, some herbs (I like italian seasoning here), a little red pepper flake, and lots of black pepper. If you have any old hard cheese rinds, add it in here, too. Cook it for like 2 hours until the white beans get rul thicc and break down. Then add some finely sliced dark, leafy greens and let them break down (if you’re using collards just add them when you add the beans, btw. But I typically use a bag of frozen kale cuz it’s already cut small asf). Also this might take a lot longer than 2 hours to cook if you have old beans, fair warning. After the greens are tender, the soup is done. As a Next Level flavoring, if you have miso paste on hand and you mix a little in at the end it takes this soup to the next level. This is definitely optional, though.
9. john bisseti >>This is another old family recipe from my great-grandmother during the Great Depression. One time her sister published the recipe and she didn’t talk to her for a few years. My great-grandmother passed away like 40 years ago but I don’t want to be haunted so I’ve adapted this from her original a little, it is not the recipe I use. Brown a package of ground sausage with green pepper, onion, and celery, and cook a bag of egg noodles. Mix up a can of condensed tomato soup. Grease a 9x13 baking dish. Add half the noodles, then add half the sausage mix. Add the rest of the noodles, then add the rest of the meat. Sprinkle shredded cheese on top, then pour the soup mix over everything. Bake at 375 for 1 hour. You want the noodles at the top to be crisp and crunchy.
10. kimchi soup >>This isn’t authentic at all but it’s friggin delicious and I highly recommend it. Heat oil in the bottom of a soup pot. Sautee a sliced smoke sausage link and the white parts from a full bunch of green onions. If you want to splurge for mushrooms, dice some up and add those as well. Once it’s a bit brown, go in with a jar of kimchi that’s already cut up. If you don’t want this to clear your sinuses I recommend draining the brine off* first. Saute it a little bit, then add an entire head of cabbage cut in bite-size pieces (shredded, square, your choice). If it’s hard to mix, you’re doing it right. Season with adobo or creole seasoning or salt--kimchi is salty so don’t use too much, and especially if you put the brine it, you may not need to add salt at all. Let it go on low like 20 minutes, then go mix it up so your sausage doesn’t burn. Then cook the shit out of it. Low and slow for like 2-3 hours. You shouldn’t need to add any liquid beyond what cooks out of the cabbage. Just before serving add in all the green parts from your green onion bundle. This soup is the best.
PROTIP: you can reserve the kimchi brine (or the brine of any pickles you like) in a jar, add in freshly cut vegetables, put it back in the fridge, and in a few days you can enjoy refrigerator pickles.
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thewoodbine · 5 years
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So Im here to teach you kiddos the perfect poor person's meal
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What's super cheap: Ramen
What's super healthy: A Salad
That's your choices right? Cheap or healthy? Hell no! In my house we get both!
Stir-Fry bitches!
All you really need is rice and a sack of frozen veggies or whatevers in your kitchen.
How To Make Perfect Rice:
However much rice you want (measured in cups)
Same amount of water in cups + 1/2 Cup. ( EX: 1 Cup rice, 1 1/2 water. 6 Cups rice, 6 1/2 water.)
Bring water to a boil ( and rinse your rice under cold water for a few seconds while you wait)
Add rice and cover, reduce heat to low and cook for 18-20 min. Then remove from heat and let sit for 3min
Boom your rice is ~Flawless~
Let that shit rest over night for perfect stir fry rice.
For The Stir-Fry:
Add just a dash of oil to a pan and then heat until sizzly. (Test by flicking just a drop of water into the pan) If you have a pool of oil, you've gone too far. Use just enough to swish around and get a little film built up otherwise we exit healthy again.
Add rice, and stir stir stir. Once that bad boi is hot and fluffy as hell
Add frozen or fresh veggies of choice. Get creative! This morning I used some old leftover cabbage, frozen peas and carrots, onion, and mushrooms. But honestly rice is just a food train. You can just dump a bunch of random leftover ingredients and it'll probably still turn out ok.
Season with salt and pepper or get wacky and start experimenting. J's favorite combo is a big blob of butter and a generous splash of soy sauce. I like to use fresh herbs from our little gallon jug garden.
Yeah thats about it. Do what you want with it.
There are certainly ways to make this a more gourmet meal and little steps towards improvement. But this is the watered down, bare bones, basic version. I'll let you explore and find the best methods all on your own.
Happy cooking
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~ ☀
330 notes · View notes
edgewaterfarmcsa · 3 years
Text
CSA WEEK 14
P I C K L I S T
RASPBERRIES!!! - WATERMELON - GREEN KALE - LEMONGRASS - ASIAN EGGPLANT - THAI BASIL - SWEET CARMEN PEPPERS - SHISHITO PEPPERS - DANGJO CHEONG YANG HOT PEP - CARROTS - ONION - GARLIC
 Pooh Sprague (original farmer at Edgewater with wife and fastest bean picker Anne) infrequently updates a blog on our website -Pooh’s Corner- that offers his seasonal farming perspective etc… he posted this on Tuesday (September 14th), just in time for the CSA newsletter, thought yall might like checking in on Pooh’s thoughts…
 PRO-TIPS:
Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately
FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE: 
Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 
 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:
 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)
8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces
20 canned straw mushrooms
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
1 cup water
1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded
6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor
6 slices galangal
8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.
If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.
 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/
 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book
Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.
 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)
1 teaspoon salt
2 ½ tablespoons canola oil
2 cups finely diced yellow onion
3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno
1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained
2 teaspoons shrimp paste
½ teaspoon turmeric
½ teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon fish sauce
Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)
Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish
1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish
 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  
 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  
 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  
 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   
 The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.
 PRO-TIPS:
Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately
 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 
Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 
 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:
 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)
8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces
20 canned straw mushrooms
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
1 cup water
1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded
6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor
6 slices galangal
8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.
If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.
 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/
 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book
Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.
 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)
1 teaspoon salt
2 ½ tablespoons canola oil
2 cups finely diced yellow onion
3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno
1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained
2 teaspoons shrimp paste
½ teaspoon turmeric
½ teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon fish sauce
Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)
Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish
1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish
 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  
 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  
 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  
 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   
 The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.
 PRO-TIPS:
Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately
 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 
Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 
 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:
 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)
8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces
20 canned straw mushrooms
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
1 cup water
1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded
6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor
6 slices galangal
8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.
If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.
 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/
 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book
Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.
 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)
1 teaspoon salt
2 ½ tablespoons canola oil
2 cups finely diced yellow onion
3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno
1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained
2 teaspoons shrimp paste
½ teaspoon turmeric
½ teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon fish sauce
Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)
Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish
1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish
 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  
 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  
 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  
 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   
The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.
 PRO-TIPS:
Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately
 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog��� 
Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 
 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:
 TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)
8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces
20 canned straw mushrooms
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
1 cup water
1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded
6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor
6 slices galangal
8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.
If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.
 https://rasamalaysia.com/tom-kha-gai-recipe-thai-coconut-chicken-soup/
 Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book
Curry style eggplant awesome over rice.
 3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)
1 teaspoon salt
2 ½ tablespoons canola oil
2 cups finely diced yellow onion
3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno
1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained
2 teaspoons shrimp paste
½ teaspoon turmeric
½ teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon fish sauce
Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)
Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish
1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish
 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  
 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  
 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  
 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   
 The 7th Inning Stretch September 14, 2021:   We are approaching mid September here. School is back in session and as if that weren’t a wake-up call, we are staring down the ultimate harbinger of fall with the arrival of the World’s Fair in Tunbridge, VT. Surely the days will start getting much shorter now, and we often remark about it. We will see the breaking out of sweatshirts, neoprene picking gloves, rain gear and wool toques. In their orange rain pants the crew looks like they just came off the boat from the TV series “Deadliest Catch.” As the season winds down, many farmers are licking their seasonal wounds. We are -in farmer terms- “just past the 7th inning stretch” in our seasons, and there is still much to accomplish. This includes a lot of planting and seeding within the greenhouses to serve the late fall CSA. Our onions are gathered up, the first of three plantings of carrots up and in the cooler, and if Mike can find enough parts between our two old potato harvesters to make one functional harvester, we will soon be digging our 6 acres of potatoes. Once that crop is all graded, sized and stored in our barn, we can start washing and shipping them. We can then turn our attention to: cleaning up the place; planting next year’s garlic; readying the strawberries with sprays and mulching for next spring; fixing broken doors and sills in our funky collection of old greenhouses. Then the contracts will expire on the Jamaican crew, and they will head home to tend their own farms by early November. Plenty to do, and seemingly insufficient time and bodies to make it through the list. I have heard the muttering of “I wouldn’t mind a good frost now….” and this time it didn’t come from my lips first. On many farms, the wet July here in the Twin States brought forth an epic surge of weed germination and growth…and Edgewater was no exception. We daily watched the galinsoga engulf the strawberries, with no spare hours available to get in there and clean it out. We are looking for a good frost to freeze it down, leaving the strawberries to bask in the filtering fall sunlight without competition. Fortunately, the strawberry plants are in very good shape, and we are (perhaps foolishly) getting optimistic about our spring prospects. But everyone is busy harvesting and packing out 10 hours a day, and soon the light levels will dictate just how long we will be able to work in the fields. Despite a crop failure with pumpkins and winter squash, we have an almost epic fall raspberries crop. Trying to harvest and move that crop is mopping up a lot of extra hours. In the farmstand we have had to close down on Mondays for the rest of the season, because of a labor shortage, and we have had to reschedule the help we have. Labor shortage or not, our melons,tomatoes, pepper, cut flowers, leeks will be out there for another 4 weeks unless a frost stops them in their steps. Weather continues to be the biggest challenge and unknown for farmers, along with a dearth of local labor. Our season started hot and droughty from the end of March until the end of June. It was abnormally hot for so early in the growing season, and that created some minor problems in the greenhouses, but there was a non-stop 10-15 mph breeze or wind that just never abated. I felt like we were trying to farm in Pueblo, Colorado. The lack of rain was tough enough, but the constant wind withered and devastated transplanted crops. Then, the weather changed, and in 20 minutes we got an inch of rain, and it then continued to rain off and on for a month. A lot of disease showed up, so we were confronted with trading one extreme problem for another. However, August turned up benignly normal, and with adequate moisture the potatoes sized up and the field tomatoes and melons kicked into gear. We have been challenged, but thus far undamaged, by hurricanes. Many of my seacoast friends prepared for the worst wind event they hoped never to see. Weather models were in constant flux for us here in the Upper Valley. On the Saturday that Hurricane Ida was making landfall on Long Island, the forecast for us from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was calling for a range of 2-12” of rain. I understand that weather forecasting is not an exact science, but for me there is a big difference in the amount that 2” dumps and what 12 “ would look like. At two inches I would get the tractor bucket out after the storm passes, and do a little touch-up work on our gravel roads and driveways. After twelve inches in so few hours I would be knee-deep in insurance claims, as well as sleeping and cooking meals in our farmstand….for a long time, too. What did we really get in the end? In what was forecast to be the middle of the storm, I went out and mowed my lawn. And I could not have been happier to be doing so. Fall will always be a great season to me. There is plenty of natural color in the pumpkins, ornamental corn, and chrysanthemums as well as on the trees in the woods. The warmth in this season is welcome, as opposed to the intense sun and heat of summer. Fall crops roll into the pack house: beets, potatoes, turnip, carrots. Onions, garlic, leeks and cabbage. When it's cold, we can add a couple of thin layers of clothes to keep warm until the sun burns through the fall fogs and warms us. Migratory birds come and go, and soon we will start to lure the songbirds to the birdfeeders. In deep fall, the woodstove starts to operate with greater frequency. Then one day in November, it (the woodstove) will start its full time nonstop operation until late April, when the sun once more strengthens its grip on us all.
 PRO-TIPS:
Shishitooooosssss!!  You know what to do, but if you have forgotten: bring these peps right to your pan or grill, shmear in olive oil and fry or grill until popped and blistered.  Salt and Devour immediately
 FOR NOTES ON LEMONGRASS AND HOW TO USE:  head to the CSA blog - yes! Did you know that these newsletters get posted weekly on our web page? https://www.edgewaterfarm.com/csa-blog… 
Scroll back to week 10 and read up on all things lemongrass. 
 BUT FOR MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH LEMONGRASS, SEE:
TOM KHA SOUP (Thai coconut chicken soup with chicken, mushroom and coconut milk)
8 oz. (226 g) boneless and skinless chicken, breast or thighs, cut into strips or thin pieces
20 canned straw mushrooms
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
1 cup water
1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 3-inch lengths and pounded
6 kaffir lime leaves , lightly bruised to release the flavor
6 slices galangal
8 bird's eye chilies, lightly pounded
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons lime juice or to taste
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
Add water, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, kaffir lime leaves into a pot and bring it to boil. Add straw mushrooms and chicken and boil it on medium heat for a few minutes or until the chicken is cooked through. Add coconut milk and boil for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat and add lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Add chopped cilantro before serving.
If you can't find galangal, do not use ginger. Ginger is not the substitute for galangal. "Tom Kha" means galangal in Thai. However, if you absolutely can't find galangal and still wish to make this because you love this soup so much, just make it without galangal.
Spicy eggplant from the burma superstar cook book
Curry style eggplant awesome over rice. 
3 Japanese Eggplants, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)
1 teaspoon salt
2 ½ tablespoons canola oil
2 cups finely diced yellow onion
3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1-2 Thai chiles, thinly sliced or 2 tablespoons minced jalapeno
1 small dried chile, broken in half, seeds retained
2 teaspoons shrimp paste
½ teaspoon turmeric
½ teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon fish sauce
Handful of fried garlic chips (for how to on garlic chips: again head to our CSA BLOG and scroll back to CSA week 6)
Cilantro or thai basil sprigs for garnish
1 lime or lemon cut into wedges for garnish
 Season the eggplant with salt and scatter onto a clean dish towel.  Let it sit while you prepare the remaining ingredients, at least 10 minutes.  Once the eggplant begins to bead with water, wrap the towel lightly and squeeze to remove excess liquid from the eggplant.  
 In a wok or pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the eggplant, lower the heat to medium, and cook, stirring often, until the eggplant begins to soften, about 4 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, scoop out the eggplant and transfer to a plate.  
 Heat the remaining 1 ½ tablespoons of oil in the wok.  Add the onions and cook over medium-low heat, stirring often to prevent scorching, until softened, about 4 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, fresh and fried chiles, and shrimp paste and cook until the onions are completely soft and starting to turn golden, 3 more minutes.  
 Add the turmeric and paprika and then stir in the eggplant and about ½ cup of water.  Lower to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the eggplant is very soft and most of the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes.  Season with fish sauce, adding more for a saltier flavor, and squeeze a wedge or two of lime over the top.  Serve in a bowl and top with cilantro (and or thai basil!).  Offer extra lime wedges along side.   
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crazy4tank · 3 years
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Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese, Cranberries, and Pecans
New Post has been published on https://foodloverrecipes.com/blog/green-bean-salad-with-blue-cheese-cranberries-and-pecans/
Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese, Cranberries, and Pecans
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posted by Kalyn Denny on November 18, 2020
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This Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese, Cranberries, and Pecans can be made ahead for a delicious addition to the holiday table! 
PIN Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese to try it later!
There’s a lot to love about this Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese, Cranberries, and Pecans! Not only is it Thanksgiving-dinner-worthy in the flavor department, but you can cook the beans and marinate them in the dressing, and toast the pecans, crumble the blue cheese and measure the cranberries all in advance, so when it’s turkey dinner time all you need to do is toss the salad together.  The salad is great at room temperature too, so you don’t even need much fridge space.
I’m considering this a Thanksgiving salad because the dried cranberries are definitely a bit of a splurge if you’re watching your carbs. You can certainly reduce the amount of cranberries or leave those out completely for a low-carb version of this tasty holiday salad. You could also use dried cranberries without added sugar (affiliate link) which will reduce the carbs in the finished salad. Or check out Ten Low-Carb Winter Salads for Holiday Dinners for other Thanksgiving salads you might enjoy!
How to Make Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese, Cranberries, and Pecans:
(Scroll down for complete recipe with nutritional information.)
Trim beans, cut into smallish pieces, and give them a wash in the salad spinner if they need it.  Start a pan of water boiling, add a little salt, and cook the beans just until they’re barely done, about 4-5 minutes.
While the beans cook, whisk together white balsamic vinegar, Dijon, olive oil, and some black pepper to make the dressing.
When they’re done, dump the beans into a colander placed in the sink and rinse with VERY COLD water. Let beans drain well.
When the water has drained off, transfer the beans to a salad spinner and spin until they’re very dry. (You’ll be surprised how much more water comes off.)
Then spread the beans out on a paper towel, cover with another towel, and blot dry, until they are as dry as you can get them. (Don’t skip this step!)
Toss the dried beans with the dressing until all the beans are well-coated with dressing. (At this point you can let the beans marinate in the dressing on the counter until you’re ready to mix in the other ingredients.)
When you’re ready to serve the salad, toast the pecans for a couple of minutes in a dry frying pan, then cool on a cutting board. Coarsely chop the pecans.
Measure the dried cranberries and blue cheese.
Then toss everything together, season with a little more fresh ground black pepper, and serve. Uh-May-Zing salad!  Hope you enjoy.
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More Low-Carb Holiday Salads You Might Like:
Hearts of Palm Salad with Avocado and Radicchio Mary’s Spring Mix Salad with Feta and Pine Nuts Napa Cabbage Asian Slaw Low-Carb German Potato Salad  Ottolenghi’s Perfect Lettuce Salad
Ingredients
1 lb. thin green beans, trimmed, washed and cut into short pieces
1/2 tsp. salt (for cooking water; the beans don’t absorb all this salt but it does add flavor)
1/2 cup pecans, toasted and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup crumbled blue cheese
fresh ground pepper to taste (for seasoning finished salad)
Dressing Ingredients:
2 T white balsamic vinegar (or white wine vinegar)
1 tsp. Dijon
3 T extra-virgin olive oil (use your best-tasting oil for this)
fresh-ground black pepper to taste
Instructions
Fill a medium-sized pot with water, add the salt, and bring water to a boil while you trim the beans.
Trim both ends of green beans.  (I do this by grabbing a bunch loosely in my hand so the beans are standing up, then letting them fall down on to the cutting board so all the ends are lined up.  Trim the ends and repeat with the other end.)  Cut beans into short pieces, 1-2 inches long, and wash in salad spinner if needed.
Add beans to the water when it comes to a boil and cook 4-5 minutes, or just until beans are barely done but still slightly crisp.
Drain immediately into a colander placed in the sink and rinse with VERY COLD water.  Let beans drain in the colander a few minutes, then gently spin in a salad spinner.  Lay out a paper towel, spread out the beans, put another paper towel over the top, and blot dry, until the beans are as dry as you can get them.
While beans cook, whisk together the vinegar, Dijon, olive oil, and pepper to make the dressing.
When the beans are dry, put into a plastic bowl and toss with dressing.  (At this point the beans can marinate on the counter for several hours until you’re ready to serve the salad.)
When you’re ready to serve the salad, toast the pecans for about 2 minutes in a dry pan over high heat, shaking the pan the whole time so they don’t burn.   Put pecans on a cutting board to cool; then coarsely chop.
Measure the dried cranberries and crumble the blue cheese.  Toss all ingredients together and season to taste with more fresh-ground black pepper.
Notes
I was pleasantly surprised that the salad was still quite delicious even after it had been in the fridge overnight, and the two times I’ve made this (so far!) I happily ate the leftovers for lunch the next day.
Recipe adapted from Haricots Verts Salad with Pecans and Blue Cheese at Fine Cooking.
Nutrition Information:
Yield:
4
Serving Size:
1 Amount Per Serving: Calories: 321Total Fat: 23gSaturated Fat: 4gTrans Fat: 0gUnsaturated Fat: 18gCholesterol: 6mgSodium: 426mgCarbohydrates: 30gFiber: 6gSugar: 20gProtein: 5g
Nutrition information is automatically calculated by the Recipe Plug-In I am using. I am not a nutritionist and cannot guarantee 100% accuracy, since many variables affect those calculations.
Low-Carb Diet / Low-Glycemic Diet / South Beach Diet Suggestions: I doubled the amount of beans in proportion to other ingredients in this Green Bean Salad with Blue Cheese, Cranberries, and Pecans to make a more carb-conscious salad, but even with that change, the dried cranberries and high-fat blue cheese still make this best for Phase 3 of the original South Beach Diet, or a “once-in-a-while treat” for phase 2, to eat on a special occasion like Thanksgiving. If you want the salad to be lower in carbs, go easy on the dried cranberries, or if you skip those this should be a good salad for most low-carb diet plans.
Find More Recipes Like This One: Use Salad Recipes to find more interesting ideas for salads. See Thanksgiving Recipes for more Thanksgiving recipe ideas! Use the Recipes by Diet Type photo index pages to find more recipes suitable for a specific eating plan.
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posted by Kalyn Denny on November 18, 2020
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danguy96 · 7 years
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Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: A Sweet Retelling - Chapter 1
Author’s Note: I hope this doesn’t feel too late or too soon, but here’s the first actual chapter of my retelling of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It’s mostly going to be quite a bit of setting things up here, but I hope you’ll still like it, though I hope you don’t find things to be too much like the book, since while many lines will be lifted from the book and it’s adaptations, I really do hope on making it somewhat of it’s own thing. As always reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated, and all respective characters belong to their respective owners. Please make sure to support the official release, and I hope you enjoy this.
Previous
Chapter 1: Meet Charlie Bucket 
  As you would have probably guessed by now, this is a story about an ordinary little boy named Charlie Bucket. Now, Charlie, at first glance, seemed like a typical, average young boy, and, for the most part you would be correct with that assumption. Charlie was not faster than any other child in the world, nor was he any stronger or wealthier than other children. However, what he lacked in those areas, he made up for with being a rather imaginative and clever young lad (well, as clever as a ten-year old boy could probably get, but still clever, nonetheless), and would often come up with ideas for stories and even inventions from time to time. Though, Charlie’s little habit of dreaming would occasionally slip into daydreaming, which got him into some scraps of trouble at school during his classes or when doing his homework (in fairness, his classes were usually very, very boring). Still, in spite of this, Charlie was still a good-hearted and charming boy, who would always give his finest “How d’you do?” to the people he’d meet.
  The rest of his family consisted of his father, his mother, and his four grandparents. These four grandparents consisted of the father and mother of Mr. Bucket, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine, and the father and mother of Mrs. Bucket, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina. Now, Grandpa Joe, though extremely old, was still a fun-loving man who just loved to tell fascinating stories from his youth, including his time doing service in the war (though, it was hard to tell when was telling the truth, or just telling tall tales, though it didn’t really matter to Charlie, since he loved Joe’s stories either way). Joe’s wife, in contrast, was a bit more down-to-earth than her husband, and usually liked to keep to her knitting and sewing (often knitting and sewing things for the rest of her family, especially for little Charlie, who needed the extra warmth for the winter most of all, due to him being prone to becoming sick during that time of the year), but she was probably the sweetest old grandmother you could possibly find. Grandpa George, on the other hand, was a somewhat curmudgeonly, old Irishman, who almost alway seemed to be grumbling about what was wrong with life and the world nowadays, and seemed to be waiting for the day when he would, as he put it, “finally get to meet the good Lord.” Grandma Georgina, a brash woman of advancing years from Scotland, had less of a “glass half-empty” outlook on life than her husband did, though she did have a habit of being, well, “inappropriate”, such as claiming that she could show attractive young men that she’s “still got it” after downing more than quite a bit of gin (Charlie’s parents promised to tell Charlie just what sort of “it” Georgina had when he was older). Even in spite of their foibles, Charlie still loved his grandparents, and the same could most definitely be said about his own parents as well, even if they didn’t exactly live in the lap of luxury (an understatement, to be sure).
  You see, the whole of this family lived in a small cottage on small hill near the edge of a small city in England (though, I couldn’t tell you which one, just that it was far away from the hustle and bustle of cities like London or Oxford), right next to a not-so-small Garbage Dump. The house wasn’t nearly large enough to accommodate all seven people, and, as you could probably, life was extremely uncomfortable for them all. There were only six rooms in the place altogether (though, technically it was four rooms and a cellar, so it was even less than that); there was one “main room”, where all four of the grandparents slept in the same large bed on both sides (or, rather basically lived in the same large bed, since they hadn’t gotten out of it as far back as Charlie could remember, since all four were so old and had lost even the will to get out of the bed), one bedroom where Mr. and Mrs. Bucket slept, a kitchen (which just barely counted as a room, seeing as how it was practically right out in the open and almost right next to where the Grandparents slept), a room in the cellar where Mr. Bucket would occasionally tinker on home-made inventions of his, a bathroom, and one makeshift bedroom in the attic for little Charlie. Now, in the Summertime and in Spring, living conditions weren’t completely terrible, but in the Winter, freezing cold drafts would blow throughout the house and make the floor feel like ice if one walked on it without socks or slippers, which was just unbearable. There wasn’t any question of them just moving out and buying a better house, or even building a proper bedroom for Charlie. They were far too poor for any of that.
  Because they were so poor, both parents and even Charlie had to put in their fair share of work in order to make ends meet, with Charlie recently having taken up an evening newspaper route after school. As for Charlie’s parents, Mr. Bucket was the main breadwinner of the family, and worked at the local Smilex toothpaste factory, where he would sit all day screwing the caps onto toothpaste tubes after they had been filled. The hours were long and tedious, and the amount of money he was paid wasn’t nearly enough to help provide for his family, no matter how hard he worked or however fast he screwed the caps on. Mrs. Bucket would usually spend one half of the day taking care of the house and cooking for family, while spending the other half of the day working at an old laundromat, where she would wash and dry other people’s laundry in a very old-fashioned and tedious way (the town in which Charlie lived in was very old-fashioned as well, so having a washing machine and dryer, or even having a laundromat with those things, was quite the luxury). While she only had to work there every other day, the pay was no greater than the pay which Mr. Bucket earned, and she would sometimes even have to work there till late in the evening, even after Charlie got home from school.
 At home, though, Mr. Bucket still did his best to keep a glass-half-full attitude, tries his best to help the family by fashioning together some homemade contraptions together in order to make their lives a little easier (such as repairing an old vacuum cleaner he found thrown out in the dump, building a “work-in-progress” automatic woodcutting device in order to save time on chopping wood for the stove, repairing an old wireless radio set, and a “work-in-progress” shave and haircutting device, just to name a few, and to answer your question, the reason why he didn’t sell his inventions in the city is because they weren’t “new” and “up-to-date”), and loved to play with his similarly imaginative son when he had the chance, even helping him build a small clubhouse in a tree that was just between Charlie’s house and the Dump, using mostly the debris that was left out near the house. Mrs. Bucket was more down-to-Earth and practical than her husband, rejecting some of her husband’s more ludicrous inventions in favor of using a bit of elbow grease around the house, and was the de facto enforcer of house rules, but she still loved her husband and her son dearly, even if there weren’t enough hours in the day for her to spend time with both of them.
  Now, even though the Buckets were definitely poor, they could still afford some of the basic essentials: running water, electricity, and heating… though they would sometimes have trouble with the last one, and had to resort to wood and coal-powered stoves whenever Mr. Bucket had to fix the heater. The main problem they had was food. Even with the combined pay of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket’s jobs, and Charlie’s paper route, all that they could afford were small loaves of bread with margarine for breakfast, boiled potatoes and cabbages for lunch, and watery cabbage soup for supper. There were days when things were a bit better, and they were able to buy some things like lard, eggs, and some meat (particularly corned beef), but those days seemed to only come once or twice a month if they were lucky.  
 The Buckets didn’t starve, of course, but every one of them usually went from day to day with a devastatingly half-empty feeling in their stomachs, and just didn’t feel completely well-nourished after they ate. They all had dreams of one day being able to eat more scrumptious and satisfying meals, but Charlie was probably the one who suffered the most of all. Although his mother, father, and even his grandparents would usually do their best to give them some of their own share of lunch or supper to help him keep up his strength, it still usually wasn’t enough for a growing boy his age. Oh, how he desperately craved something more filling and satisfying than cabbage soup or boiled potatoes. But the thing he longed for and dreamed of eating more than anything else in the world was… CHOCOLATE.
 Walking his way to school in the mornings, Charlie would walk by the local sweet shop and see great slabs of chocolate piled up high in the shop windows, and he pause briefly to stop and stare and press his nose against the glass his mouth watering like mad. Several times a week, he would see other children taking creamy chocolate bars out from their pockets, lunch boxes, or backpacks and see them munching greedily into them without the slightest thought, and that, of course, was just pure, absolute torture for the boy.
  Only once a year, on his birthday, did Charlie Bucket ever get to taste even the tiniest bit of chocolate. The whole family saved up their money for that special occasion, and when the great day arrived, Charlie was always presented with one small chocolate bar to eat all by himself. And each time he received his birthday bar, he would place it carefully in a particular place in the refrigerator, and treasure it as though it were a bar of the finest solid gold; and for the next few days, he would allow himself to only look at it, but never touch it. Then at last, when he couldn’t take it any longer, he would peel back at a tiny bit of the wrapper at one corner to expose a tiny bit of chocolate, and then he would take just a tiny bite of the sweet delicious bar, which he would savor just long enough to allow the taste to spread out slowly over his tongue. He would then take another tiny nibble the next day, and the day after that, and so forth and so on. In this way, Charlie would make his fifty-pence (sixty-five cents in American money, just to be clear for readers on both sides of the pond) bar of birthday chocolate last him for as long as he could mange.
  Ah, but dear readers, I have yet to tell you about the one awful thing that tortured Charlie, our dear, sweet lover of chocolate, more than anything else. For him, this was far, far worse than seeing slabs of chocolate in shop windows or watching other children mindlessly munching away at creamy candy bars right in front of him. It was the terribly torturing thing you could imagine. You see, dear readers, in the town itself which Charlie lived in, within sight of Charlie’s very own house, there was an ENORMOUS CHOCOLATE FACTORY!
Just imagine that!
  Oh, but this wasn’t simply any old ordinary chocolate factory, and it was owned by no ordinary, everyday man. It was the largest and most famous factory to ever produce chocolate, candies, and all manners of sweets and confectionaries in the entire world! It was the Wonka Chocolate Factory, owned by none other than by a man known as Mr. Willy Wonka, the greatest, wealthiest, and most famed chocolatier and inventor of chocolates and other sweets the world has ever known! Very little was known about Mr. Wonka himself, but the stuff that was known about him was the stuff of legends, and his factory matched the enormity of the stories surrounding him. There were huge iron gates to the North, South, East, and West leading into it, and a high wall surrounding all four gates, and towering chimneys which belch out smoke, and one could even occasionally hear strange whizzing coming from deep inside the factory. In fact, it was so tremendous and breathtaking, that at times it felt a little intimidating, even scary, if you stood near it, what with the way it towered over the town and casted it’s massive shadow. However, you would immediately forget your worries as you stood outside the factory gates when you soon learned for yourself that outside the walls, for half a mile around in every direction, the air was scented by the heavenly rich smell of melting chocolate!
  Twice a day, on his way to school in the morning and his way home during his paper route, little Charlie Bucket had to walk right past the gates of Wonka’s factory. Every time he passed by, he would walk as slow as he possibly could, and he would take long and deep sniffs and savored every bit of that chocolatey smell. Oh, how he loved that smell!
   Although he loved Willy Wonka for his chocolates (or, at least whatever little bit of chocolate of Wonka’s his family was able to afford for his birthday), Charlie also admired Mr. Wonka for the exciting, charismatic tales stories surrounding Mr. Wonka and his life (which Charlie just so happens to knows about, thanks to his Grandparents, particularly Grandpa Joe), as well as for his ingenuity and skills at being an inventor and innovator of all things related to chocolate. Such accomplishments of Wonka’s (mixed in with him taking after his father and grandfather when it came to imagination and a drive to create) soon led to young Charlie being inspired to hopefully become an inventor himself one day so that he could help his family, with dreams of even opening up his very own sweet shop.
  Until that day, though, he was just Charlie Bucket; a poor boy with not much to his name other than a paper route, a clubhouse he and his father built, a tendency to daydream, and small bit of optimism to help him get through life. Still, Charlie continued to hope, dream, and wish for things to get better for his family, even if things seemed almost hopeless at this point. But even though he loved his family very much, and would do anything in order to help them rise above their troubles, the one other thing he dreamed and wished for more than anything was to one day be able to go inside Wonka’s grand factory itself, just to satisfy his curiosity to see what it was like in there, and to finally meet Willy Wonka himself.
  However, dear readers, even though he didn’t exactly consider himself to be the lucky type, Charlie Bucket was the luckiest boy in the entire world, even if he didn’t know it yet, and little did he know that his wishes were soon to be granted in probably the most unlikely of ways.
 And I’ve finally finished Chapter One. Sorry it took so long. I’ve sort of being through some personal issues (both mentally and physically), but I still managed to pull through and finish this proper beginning to my fanfic.
As you may pick up, I do sort of borrow heavily from Dahl’s original text, but I also changed things up a bit to give a bit more depth to Charlie’s family as I set them up for the story proper. While this is mostly just set-up, I still felt it was important to do this sort of thing, much like how Dahl would usually spend a chapter or two setting up the story and characters. And I probably may continue to borrow a bit from the original text, but I do promise you that I try to make this story it’s own thing with my own takes on certain bits of dialogue, even if a few elements from other adaptation of this story will eventually make their way into this retelling. Speaking of which, I hope you picked up on any references or nods to other adaptations of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, as well as a few shout-outs from other certain stories as well.
I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you also share your thoughts on it with me.
Next time, we get into the story proper, so be sure to stick for when it finally comes out.
@takashi0, @thevideonasty​, @true-king-of-monsters, @celticpyro, @everythingwonka, @theliterarywolf, @roristevens, @mask131, @jewishmagpie, @fantastic-nonsense, @keskronwolf, @catcfmusicaluniverse, @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales, @dongelmeister, @jamesandtheblog, @adventures-of-the-candy-man
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Observations about white people cooking stuff by a white American
Okay guys. I'm bored and haven't made an original post in a while so listen up. I've been a white person for a long time now. My whole life, in fact. And as nice as that is, I've gotta say, our cooking kinda sucks sometimes. So, I've decided to compile a random list of observations I've made while being a white person in a white family in a place where a lot if people aren't white and cook better than us. If you have any more observations add on, do it please. I'd like to hear. Or, read rather. Keep in mind that I'm Californian with a lil bit of German and Swedish in me culturally left over from the fatherland my family left who knows how long ago and I'm just writing this list because at the moment I'm bored and want to make fun of myself and a bunch of people that kinda look like me and probably have similar eating patterns. -potato -We eat rice, but we can't just eat it plain -We've gotta put butter in the water or something even if we do eat it plain -We pretend that we can make sticky rice, but we can't. We really can't. -For some reason we really like to pickle things -And boil them -Boiled potatoes -Pickled cabbage, pickled eggs, pickled beets, pickled herring(ewwwwwwew), pickles, pickled red cabbage(don't ask what the difference is. It's just red), pickled onions... -potatoes -We either eat spicy food or we don't, and the white people that don't eat spicy food will cry and complain about something any normal person would swear has no spice at all -dairy -Just put milk in everything -Milk and potatoes -Milk and rice -Put cheese on your pie. Put cheese on your goddamned apple pie. Do it. Appease the cheese gods. Cheese on pie. -Potatoes -Put cheese on the potato -Now put sour cream on the potato -And milk based gravy -Now smother that damn potato with melted butter and dump out your damn salt shaker on it. -Congratulations. You're gonna have heart surgery in your forties. Now eat the salty dairy potato. -Eat a spoonful of horseradish. Prove your superiority. No? Just me? Okay. -Vinegar. In chips, in potatoes, in milk, in eggs. Heck, just down a cup of the stuff. It's good for you, right? That's how that works. -Organic and greasy have a similar appeal. They are delicious buzz words that will get us to buy things. -For some reason some of us put canned vegetables in green jello? -Yeah I think we do a lot with jello. -Put fruit in it. That's probably healthy, right? -Put hot dogs in everything -Cook the dogs into your mac 'n cheese -Bake it into bread, I dunno. -Just find a way to put hot dogs in something and we've done it -We put it on our damn pizzas for crying out loud -PUT FOOD ON A STICK WE WILL FIND A WAY -Deep fry it Deep fry it Deep fry it Deep fry it Deep fry it Deep fry it -Asparagus. -Potato -Red potato -Golden potato -Deep fry the potato -You can cut potatoes like 135885428934 different ways trust me I've done it -Bake the potato -Boil the potato -Burn the potato -Roast the potato -Grill the potato -BE THE POTATO -Scalloped potatoes -Cheeseburger pie -It's time to get your gluten on my friends. Let's bake some stuff. -Have I mentioned deep frying yet? -Awww. Look. It's a cutesy sugar cookie grandma spent all day decorating. Let's spread it all over the house. -Deep fry the dough. Put raisins in it probably. Put sugar on it. There ya go. You have diabetes now. -The heck is a tamale pie? It has nothing to do with tamales. Oh well. It's a tasty mush full of meat and corn and that's all that matters -Wait that's not dessert. I'm getting distracted. -We call them Mexican wedding cakes or Russian tea cakes, but they probably have nothing to do with either Mexico or Russia -Fudge time ya sissies. -Eat the fudge. -Ambrosia. Full of marshmallows and fruit. I'm sure this is what the Greek gods would have wanted -Put walnuts in it. -You can probably grate any kind of squash and bake it into bread with pretty good results -Why do we use so much powdered sugar? -I'm moving on to meat -Bake the meat -Eat POTATOES with it -Store bought spice packs because apparently we're too lazy or untalented to mix or grind the spices ourselves -Don't forget the bacon -Wrap your damn chocolate bacon we don't give a damn. Put it in your ice cream. Wrap it around a jalapeño. Just get the bacon in there somehow -Meatloaf and ketchup with POTATOES -You want lemonade with that? Trick question. Of course you do. Drink the lemonade, Sharon. -Drink the tea, Katie. Drink the iced tea. I don't care if you don't like it. You will. Feed the tea to the children. Give them coffee. They will be consumers. Make them drink it. That's all I can think of right now. Please add some more. In the meantime, remember potato.
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deannawads · 7 years
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Homemade chicken stock from garbage?
“Garbage?” you say.
Yes, garbage!
First let me start off by saying I am a writer, but I am also an avid gardener, food preserver, and a general foodie.
And I’m cheap.
I love preserving the old ways of cooking and putting food by, much like the character Phineas in my upcoming Men of Gilead novel, THE RHUBARB PATCH. Check out this cute scene about homemade chicken stock here.
Back to me being cheap. I love to see how much bang I can get for my cooking buck. Would you like to turn that $10 rotisserie chicken and scraps you were gonna pitch into 12-16 pints of stock? At the price of one jar of chicken broth, not only are you getting six helpings of chicken for dinner, but the leftovers gave you $20 bucks worth of FREE broth.
That’s my kinda savings.
Now some of you may compost, so what I am calling “garbage” might not be garbage to you. I compost too, but I found a better use for some of my kitchen scraps.
The “garbage” I’m referring to is the leftover chicken or turkey carcass(skin, fat and cartilage too), ham or beef bones and all your mirepoix peelings and scraps.
What is mirepoix? Check it out here: http://ift.tt/1JX4ujV Basically it’s celery, onion, and carrots. I believe Emeril called it the Holy Trinity of most dishes.
Now, if like me, you buy whole carrots because it’s cheaper and the flavor is better for cooking than baby carrots, then you have to peel them.
But don’t shove those peels or the green tops down your garbage disposal!
Bag of “garbage” scraps
Take every single one of them and stash them in a gallon freezer bag and put them in your freezer. Same for the celery butts and leaves, or just wilted celery that isn’t rotten but you don’t wanna eat. And the thick onion skins? Toss those in your freezer bag too. Just make note that the papery peels will make the stock cloudy. Personally I don’t care, but you might.
Now I take it a step beyond the basic mirepoix and save the tiny butts of my garlic and those green stalks that often grow inside the bulbs and toss those in my “garbage” freezer bag too. Also leeks and scallions are good to save. And the stems from your fresh herbs? Don’t leave those out! Heck, I’ve even saved parsnip, turnip, and beet peels too.
*NOTE* Don’t use cruciferous vegetables like broccoli or cabbage. And avoid tomatoes and asparagus. It’ll ruin your stock.There are mixed thoughts on potato peels. Adding a few will thicken the broth, but too many will ruin it. I’ve never used any of these ingredients myself. If I’m making a roasted veggie stock I will save a few hot or bell peppers, but be careful as they can overpower the flavor of your stock too.
I’ve added lemons after squeezing them too. Sometimes I freeze them separate for free pectin in my jellies (I don’t like to waste) but one or two halves in a chicken stock brightens the flavor nicely.
Now after dutifully saving all these scraps, you can roast them with some olive oil and make veggie stock. Whether you’re vegetarian or not, this broth is DYNAMITE to cook rice or quinoa in. But if you want this trendy “bone broth” (aka known to the rest of us folks as grandma’s homemade stock) the next time you have a carcass you’ll be ready to go.
Mmmm! It makes the house smell so good!
Don’t you just love having a nice reason to say carcass?
No? Just me, eh? LOL
I make my stock in a crock pot. There’s really no point in doing it any other way, IMO. It’s just sooooo easy!
For the sake of this post, I’m making chicken stock, but if you have beef bones, make sure they have been roasted first, same with the veggies.
Step 1: Save all your scraps in the freezer: mirepoix, herb stems, garlic butts etc.
Step 2: You have a carcass! Yay! Now put it in your slow cooker, skin, fat, gunk in the bottom of the pan, drippings and any of that clear jelly like stuff too. Now don’t be squeamish, there’s lots of nutrients in there which are good for body, especially your hair, skin, and nails. (Do I have your attention now?)
Step 3: Dump in some of your frozen “garbage.” Leave enough space that the cooker is no more than 2/3 full.
Step 4: Cover with filtered water
Step 5: Add 1TBS cider vinegar. This breaks down the bones and helps leech out more nutrients. Let it sit an hour.
Step 6: Add salt to taste. Don’t skip the salt, you’ll regret it.
Step 7: Turn slow cooker to low…..I shouldn’t think I have to tell you to put the lid on now, but there ya go.
Step 8: Forget about it!
I cook my broth a minimum of 24 hours and have let it go as long as four days, adding water as I needed. Seriously, the four day broth was soooooo rich! Like liquid consomme. Now you can do 12 hours, but you will see that most of the bones and skin are still intact after that, thus leaving a lot of nutrients behind.So if you want all those healthy nutrients from the bones, cook it longer. I usually do 48 hours.
Step 9: When you’re done cooking, strain the broth well, making sure to get out all pieces of bone and veggie. What do you do with all the skin, cooked veggies and bones?
You didn’t think I was gonna say throw it away, did you?
You’re so silly!
The point of not wasting anything….. is NOT WASTING ANYTHING. After you strain the stock, add all the junk back to the crock pot and make another batch for a lighter stock. I may or may not add fresh veggies in at this point. You can cook a third batch until the bones disintegrate if you want, I’ve done that too.
Step 10: Cool your stock if you plan to skim the fat. I almost never do this unless it’s ham bone stock.Your stock should be a rich brown, not yellow.
You have three options:
See how rich and brown it is?
A. Use it within a week (storing it in the fridge, duh)
B. Freeze it for up to six months
C. Can it, my usual go to.
If you’ve cooled your stock, bring it back to a boil before canning. Now its the time to taste it, see if you need more salt.
You will need a pressure canner to can any homemade stock, including the veggie stock.
DO NOT WATER BATH
Unless you are planning on poisoning your family. Then by all means, water bath away!
Here are Ball’s instructions:
http://ift.tt/2ks2qHp
Stock can keep for a year, but I promise you that it won’t last that long. You’ll never be able t have chicken soup again without it LOL
Thanks for stopping by my blog today! I hope you found this helpful. Please post a comment, share this post and check out my other fun things I’m doing on the interweb!
And stay tuned for THE RHUBARB PATCH, coming summer 2017 from Dreamspinner Press.
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themanuelruello · 5 years
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Natural Weed Control for Your Garden
It’s no secret. I’m not a gardening diva.
And heaven knows I’ve had my share of ridiculous gardening mistakes, like that time I killed my whole garden with poisoned hay mulch.
Even so, I stick with it every year. Every January, I order my heirloom seeds and dream of that idyllic garden that weeds itself and never looks messy. (Are you laughing yet? ?) And then, by June, the weeds are working hard to destroy the dream. In fact, the weeds—and freak hail storms in July (yeah, that happened this month– the lovely picture at the top of this post happened just SIX HOURS before it hit…)—can be the most stressful part of gardening. 
I use natural weed control ideas in my garden because, who wants to use chemical sprays on an organic garden?  Especially since I worked so hard to grow my garden from seeds (despite summer hail). I’ll never completely eradicate the weeds, but I’m okay with that.
Is there a fool-proof way to permanently banish weeds? No. At least, I’ve yet to find it… But these natural weed control tips I’ve learned over the years will help you enjoy your garden more.
Natural Weed Control for Your Garden
1. Smother weeds
Mulch has always been my best friend in waging the war on weeds, whether it’s old straw, grass clippings (make sure the lawn has not been sprayed with anything), or raked leaves.
If you are a long-time reader, you are probably well-acquainted with my foray into the world of deep mulch using hay, which started magnificently, and then ended tragically.
(Cliff Notes Version: Hay mulch is great. But make sure said hay mulch has NOT been sprayed with herbicides…) 
If your weed layer is especially stubborn you can also try stunting it by applying a layer of cardboard or newspaper before you add organic mulch. This is a bit more hardcore in smothering the weeds and will keep them repressed.
And bonus—mulch serves a dual purpose. While it keeps weeds out, it keeps moisture in. Of course, none of this matters if you still wind up killing your garden with chemicals, so make sure you know where your mulch comes from and ask if it’s been treated with chemicals. If you’re going to a local farmer for hay to use as mulch, make sure you ask how he fertilizes and sprays his fields.
Another smothering system I’ve heard of is called “solarization,” which lets the sun’s heat do all the work over the course of a season. To solarize the soil, you would simply put heavy plastic or tarps on the weedy area, weigh it down with bricks or other heavy weights, and let the sun bake the weeds. The downfall to solarization is that it can take many months to complete the process (especially if you are attempting it in winter or you live in a cooler, northern climate).
Also, solarization is non-discriminating, so it will also kill off good organisms in your soil, so use it sparingly.
2. Water wisely
Just like your lovely vegetable plants, weeds love to be watered. Because a sprinkler system is indiscriminate, watering individual plants directly keeps the life-giving water focused on your food.
Drip irrigation and soaker hoses are great choices that focus the water right where you need it, effectively prevent healthy weeds, and save water to boot. I love win-win-win.
In my raised bed garden, I apply this concept by carefully adjusting the mini-sprinklers in the beds to avoid overspray and keep the water contained within the bed and not on the walkways. As the heat of summer increases, the weeds start to feel the burn from lack of water and it definitely reduces their vigor.
3. Plant thickly
One great way to keep weeds from spreading? Refuse to give them any squatter’s rights. Obviously, the less empty space you have in your garden, the less space the weeds have to put down roots. Whenever possible, squeeze more plants in your growing space, keeping the soil covered with good plants (and, another win-win, more food!).
I see this working especially well with my potato and cabbage beds– I tend to crowd my plants in these areas and while I do have to weed normally while the plants grow, eventually they take over the beds and the weeds are discouraged.
If your plants need lots of growing space (like those crazy tomatoes that are always stretching their limbs), try keeping the excess space protected with a traditional mulch (I’ve been using our grass clippings this year with great results) or a living mulch, like buckwheat.  
4. Pull ‘em when they’re young
Even when I do all of the above, weeds still find a way to show up all over my garden beds and paths. But I find there is a definite window of time that it’s super easy to deny them long-term living space. If I boot them out when they’re young and small, I find it’s much easier to control them overall. If I don’t get them when they’re baby weeds, it seems like almost overnight they’ve gone to seed or grown intense roots systems, which are much harder to pull.
And never, ever, ever let those weeds go to seed… Otherwise they’ll haunt you for years to come.
With particularly stubborn weeds that I CANNOT remove by the roots, no matter how I hard I try, I’m using the EXHAUST method. 
Take yellow dock for example… I have several patches of this in my garden that WILL NOT go away, even though I’ve built raised beds on top of it and smothered it with landscape fabric and wood chip mulch. The roots go down to China, so I’ve given up trying to dig it out. However, as soon as I see a fresh crop of leaves appear on it (usually overnight because that plant is stinkin’ tough…) I chop ’em off to avoid the plant getting any photosynthesis action. Over the past few months, I’ve noticed the plant loosing it’s ‘oomph’ and I’m going to keep exhausting its resources until it gives up.
5. Make Homemade Weed Killer
Okay, so while numbers 1-4 sound great, life can get busy. And weeds seem to get the best of us. Every year. This is where my homemade weed-killer spray takes center stage. But I have to come clean here. It’s nothing fancy. In fact, it’s just one ingredient. And you have some right in your kitchen pantry.
My secret homemade weed-killer spray? Vinegar. I pour vinegar into a spray bottle and spray it directly on the weeds. I soak them well and I wait until it’s a scorcher, dry day. I also prefer a non-windy day, and I’m ultra careful to not let the mist touch my good plants. Because, of course, vinegar doesn’t know how to distinguish my weeds from my peppers.
Two Important Notes About Using Homemade Vinegar Weed Killer for Natural Weed Control: 
I don’t use my homemade vinegar weed killer in or near my garden beds— it’s too risky that it’ll get on my veggie plants. However, it’s a fantastic option for walkways or in your driveway where the weeds just won’t quit
You can use a super-strength vinegar (also called horticultural vinegar) for this, but it’s more expensive and tougher to find. So unless you have a ready supply, just grab a gallon or two of regular, 5% cheap white vinegar from the grocery store.
I guess this is a good place to mention another weed remedy that everyone has in their kitchen. Believe it or not, boiling water is a detriment to weeds. Just dump it on. That’s it. I don’t recommend this for all your weeds, but if you have a full pot full of blazing hot water after canning, you can carefully carry it outside and pour on the annoying weeds popping up through the cracks in your sidewalk. (Just don’t splash it on your toes!)
That time I accidentally seeded a lawn in my garden… (don’t try this at home)
6. Give Up And Eat Your Weeds
Now that I’ve spent this whole post bemoaning weeds, I will say that some weeds can serve us well and I’m not completely anti-weed. (Just yellow dock and bindweed… They are my sworn enemies…)
I highly recommend identifying the most prevalent weeds that grow well in your garden and researching if they have a good purpose. You might wind up sparing the lives of a few that you can use for a wide range of purposes.
Some weeds actually have beneficial uses either for your health, as a food, or they can be useful for beneficial insects. Clover, for example, can release beneficial nitrogen into the soil. It is also a favorite food for bees.
I love using dandelions for our homestead. Not only can you make a handy dandelion salve for muscles & joints, you can also eat dandelions in a bunch of creative ways.
I also love eating lamb’s quarters and I have a quesadilla recipe that works great with weeds like lamb’s quarters, purslane, dandelion greens, plantain leaves, and more.
Sometimes, I like to see these useful weeds as just bonus produce in the garden. Produce that I did not have to carefully raise from seed. This positive spin on weeds won’t work for all types of weeds, but it can help you find certain types of weeds as useful instead of annoying.
Final Advice on Making Natural Weed Control Work…
My BEST tip for effective natural weed control? It’s really true for all of life… slow and steady wins the race, guys. When I weed my garden every day for just 5-10 minutes a day, I find I have much more control over those invasive plants.
Mind you, I don’t follow my own advice all the time. Sometimes I do put off weeding. Then it’s bad and I put it off more. Then I spend all day on the defense in the war against weeds, and wind up grouchy and sore. I’m much happier on those months that I act like a gardening tortoise… slow and steady, Jill… slow and steady…
What are your best natural weed control tips?
More Natural Gardening Tips:
Organic Pest Control Garden Spray
Building Raised Garden Beds
Liquid Fence Recipe
How to Make Compost Tea
P.S. Want some help canning all your garden produce, now that you’ve got the weeds at bay? Join me in my kitchen for some canning tutorials right here.
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