#my first loaf of true sourdough

[jess-abides]

HER

#my first loaf of true sourdough #no yeast! #I cannot wait to eat this #and now I feel v confident in my starter and I think I’ll start selling sourdough

[copperbadge]

I had some questions about the "Roman Bread" on my Pompeii food post, including what the string that bound the loaves was for and had I ever tried it. I don't tend to like working with wet/slack doughs or sourdough, both of which the Roman bread was, but at the time I did have two loaves of beer bread rising, so I figured I'd try out the string technique. This beer bread is a relatively soft dough that normally bakes inside a pre-heated cast-iron pan in a very hot oven, which is actually similar to how Roman bread would have baked.

[ID: Three photos of a loaf of beer bread; in the first, the unbaked dough is sitting on parchment, bound with a string around the outside and with scoremarks in the top to divide it into wedges. In the second, the baked loaf is resting on a cooling rack, the scoremarks evident but not overly deep; in the third, I am holding the bread by the string around its edge, as it dangles sideways in the air.]

The most widely-held theory is that the string allowed a customer to carry the loaf easily, although bakers have pointed out (and I believe classicists generally agree) that binding the dough also gives it more structure. The loaf definitely stood much taller and baked up "higher" with a binding made from doubled-over butcher's twine than it would have normally. I scored the top with a lame, but the scoring didn't hold as true as I'd have liked; bakers who have done more work with Roman bread generally don't score it this way and instead use a floured dowel to press all the way through the dough and then let it come back together, which is how they believe ancient bakers did it.

Some bakers have said that tying the string around the middle also allows you to rip the loaf lengthwise, splitting top and bottom; mine didn't work super well for that, but I also was working with a stronger crumb, I suspect.

But yeah, all in all, the string is useful if you want to give your loaf more structure and held the bread well enough that I certainly could have carried it around an ancient market if I'd had a mind to.

#food #sam cooks #bread #ancient baking #ancient food #history #rome #pompeii

[steelycunt]

every now and then particularly on special occasions or on a lazy sunday like today i go to the kitchen and i pull out my sourdough bread loaf and take two slices and then just before i pop them in the toaster i hear a very quiet little shuffling and i look over and from between the sugar and the teabag jars i see little r peep out and he always looks all shy and excited and i go hello there. hello do you want to have a go little buddy? and he nods and i go. really? again? and he nods and so i feign exasperation via a hearty sigh and i scoop him into my palm and at first i just hold him against my cheek for a moment and then. i gently pop him into the third slot on my toaster and just before i set it off he pokes his head out of the top and gives me a timid but happy little wave. and then when he pops back out he is sooo warm and softly crisp and his cheeks are all flushed and he sits on the edge of kitchen counter next to me swinging his spindly little legs while i butter my two slices of sourdough toast and sometimes even i break off a little crumb and give it to him and he holds it with both hands and eats it quietly. all of this is true btw

#r

[sendpseuds]

The people must know: What are your favorite sandwiches???

Ah, sandwiches. What a magical food.

Since you graced us all with a whole dissertation I feel like I owe you the same level of detail, let’s see what we can do here.

While I am not actually vegetarian, I LOVE a veggie sandwich. One of my all time favorites to make at home is seeded rye with hummus on one side and homemade herby cream cheese on the other [usually parsley, green onion, mint, dill, and fresh garlic. Also sometimes this is chèvre instead of cream cheese]. Between the bread we have sliced cucumbers [seasoned with salt, pepper, and lemon juice], big slices of tomato, and arugula [sprouts if I can get my hands on them]. This whole ordeal is fabulous with turkey or bacon if you want more protein, I’ve also done smashed chickpeas in place of the hummus for a heartier option.

Another veggie sandwich I love is from a local bakery and if I knew exactly how they made it I would tell you, but it’s fresh crusty sourdough liberally coated in amazing olive oil, with this incredible carrot purée, thinly sliced fennel, Calabrian chilis, and arugula. So fucking good.

Okay, let’s talk about something less “healthy”

If you’ve ever been to Buffalo, New York [Go Bills] there are TWO sandwiches that I think about all the time.

The first is pretty ubiquitous through western New York: Beef on Weck. This is roast beef, dipped in hot jus, and piled on a kimmelweck roll [basically a Kaiser roll with crunchy sea salt and caraway seeds]. That’s it. Personally, I like to add an almost unadvisable amount of horseradish, but that’s it. It’s perfect.

The second is a true drunken indulgence. The Stinger Hoagie from Jim’s Steakout. If you are unfamiliar with Jim’s, most locations are open until 5am [bars in Buffalo close at 4am. A real drinking town] and the employees can often be seen wearing shirts that say “I see drunk people.” The Stinger Hoagie is their beautiful monster. Cheesesteak meets chicken finger sub. Shaved steak, chicken fingers, fried onions, melted American cheese, lettuce, tomato, Frank’s Red Hot, and Jim’s special sauce. [I am fucking drooling right now, I haven’t had one of these since I was in my twenties.]

When it comes to deli meat, I tend to lean toward turkey, but I want some really soft seeded multigrain bread with crispy Romain and good tomatoes. Thick slices of sharp sharp cheddar, mayonnaise, and Nance’s Sharp and Creamy mustard. I might toss in some cucumber or parsley, maybe apples and bacon if I’m feeling extra, but the specific mustard is very important.

[this isn’t really a sandwich but I’ll often take a big rib of Romaine lettuce and make a little deli boat with turkey, cheese, and Mayo. I’m sure I can blame that on high school, my mother, and all the lovely disordered eating habits I developed as a teen]

Grilled cheese… I’m sort of all over the place with grilled cheese, always experimenting, but for me, the most important thing is using GRATED CHEESE [and to be clear, I mean block cheese that you grate at home, not the pre-grated stuff in the bag, please, this is important, that shit doesn’t melt right] I want the cheese pouring over the sides of the bread, hitting the pan, oozing and bubbling until it’s gold and crispy and perfect.

I’ll give you one fancy grilled cheese: deviled egg grilled cheese. Two hard boiled eggs, whites sliced thin, yolks mixed with mayo, mustard, pepper, paprika, dill. Into the pan goes bread, cheese mixture [gruyere and cheddar, shredded and mixed with a little Mayo and mustard], yolk mixture, sliced whites, more cheese mixture, bread. Done.

This is getting out of control and I haven’t talked about chopped italian sandwiches, or banh mi, or my mom’s famous roast beef and mock Boursin sandwiches, or my obsession with Calabrian chilis [oh! Add those to the mayo on a turkey sandwich], or the time I put an entire meatloaf on an entire loaf of bread and called it a sandwich.

I haven’t even TOUCHED on breakfast sandwiches but if I get into that we’ll be here forever.

So, for now, I’ll cap it there, but there’s plenty of room for a sequel.

Hope that answers your question!

#sandwiches #food of the gods #that’s what they say #right?

[kuri-ejinn]

The first two days out of the pit were a bit fuzzy. Kuri remembered going back to her room, accompanied by Kal’sin, but she didn’t know when he left. Some time later, she awoke with a persistent hunger that drove her down to the first floor to collect an entire loaf of sourdough bread, half a block of cheese, and a plate of fruit before going back to her room. To their credit, none of the staff commented on her disheveled appearance nor the fact that she was still wearing her clothes from the trial.

After food, more sleep that was only interrupted once by one of the infirmary workers insisting she take something.

By the time Kuri awoke the second time, she felt more herself and was immediately aware that she looked terrible. She stripped off the charred clothing and discarded it in a corner of the room. A forlorn look went to her black stained sheets; she needed to add that to her list with the Starlight presents. Donning a soft robe and piling new clothes and towels into her arms, Kuri scurried off to the showers.

The warm water over her scales and skin felt heavenly and for a long while, she simply stood under the stream. When she opened her eyes, a shock of pink color against the dark stone floor caught her attention. A frown drew across her features as she bent to pick up the strands of hair and watch the water wash them from her fingers again. Running her hands over her head resulted in more of the same as strands of pink hair in varying lengths dropped to the floor and threatened to clog the drain.

Kuri sighed and spent the rest of her shower pushing them off to the corner with her foot every few minutes.

With her pom-pom moogle hat firmly in place over her bad hair day, Kuri ventured out to the Jeweled Crozier. Smells of warmed wine and cider reached her nose, mingled with spiced baked goods and fresh bread; Immediately her bright smile was back in place. She glanced at the slip of paper with her name for the Starlight exchange and hurried into a nearby boutique, its front window filled with all the latest fashions.

About an hour later, Kuri emerged with bags a bit too large for her. Even strung on her arms, their bottoms threatened to drag along the stone streets. Kuri hefted up her arms and pulled them tighter to her chest to lift the bags and waddled off further down the lane. 

As she stopped to admire another window display, she became aware of the feeling at the back of her neck. Someone or something was watching her. Kuri tensed and looked around frantically, expecting to see the shadows at the mouth of the alley move. Instead, she saw a few heads of noble ladies bent together. Their eyes quickly diverted away from her when her gaze landed on them. Kuri hesitated. Some of the tension left her, but not all, resulting in her offering the women a tight smile. They could pretend if they wanted, but she knew they were talking about her. 

Rather than linger, she continued on towards the address of a local hairdresser that the first boutique owner had graciously supplied.

“Oh my, you weren’t joking.” The elezen exclaimed as Kuri removed her hat. 

Sitting in the chair that was now elevated much higher for the elezen to get a better look, Kuri waited for the verdict. The stranger's fingers and brush ran through the strands as he let out a low hum.

“It’s badly heat damaged, but it’s salvageable,” he offered reassuringly when Kuri’s features turned sour. “It’s going to be short…”

The warning dampened Kuri’s spirits, but she agreed and settled in to let the man do his work. Her thoughts drifted to her purchases at her feet and whether her guesses about her Starlight pick would be accurate. Maybe she should have brought Alice with her. Her friend said she wanted to shop and she probably was facing the same situation Kuri was. She’d have to-

“Is it true?”

The melodic voice came from the chair to Kuri’s left. Leaning towards her was a young elezen woman with raven colored hair peeking out from a towel.

Kuri blinked. “What?”

“The dragons. Did your company really kill three of them?” The woman whispered, albeit a bit unsuccessfully as the hairdresser working on Kuri gave her a warning look. 

“That’s absurd,” he replied bluntly.

The woman shrunk back into her seat slightly and was quieted, at least for the moment.

Kuri’s mind attempted to navigate back to the pit three days ago, but that resulted in her shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The movements in her hair slowed briefly and the woman next to her looked between the hair on the floor and the work Kuri’s stylist was doing.

“It’s not though, is it?” she pressed. “I heard they dragged them away after everyone left-”

The stylist once again cleared his throat and this time, Kuri had enough sense to say something. She smiled politely at the woman. “The day was a bit overwhelming honestly, but the Fury did judge us innocent, so I’m thankful.”

This answer seemed satisfactory, at least enough to keep the woman silent until her stylist finished and led her to the front to pay. Kuri quickly passed over the gil, eager to speed out. She collected her bags and caught sight of herself in the full length mirror by the door. It was short, but something about it brought a wide smile to her face, pushing aside the uncertainty that had been building since the elezen woman opened her mouth.

Kuri pushed her moogle hat into one of the bags and stepped out onto the street. Let them whisper and stare, their Company deserved the stuffy city’s attention.

Mentions: @kalsin-ura​ | @fantasy-so-far​

[sourdough-goblin]

Sourdough Bread That Tastes Like Cheez-Its When Toasted

Let me preface this by saying this was an ACCIDENT. I had made some sourdough bread that was solidly okay but not GREAT, and had been eating it raw when I remembered my toaster oven has a "broil" setting. Much to my surprise, when combined with some salted butter, I was flung violently back 4 years ago to the last bag of cheez-its I will ever eat in my life.

I will not lie to you: this absolutely is impacted by the composition of your specific sourdough starter. That being said, here is the recipe:

Ingredients (makes 2 loaves)

1 cup sourdough starter at 3:2 flour:water, preferably fed 8-12 hours prior

3/4 cup goat milk, warm (you can use dairy if you want but this did impact the flavor)

1/4 cup granulated white sugar

1/4 cup SALTED butter, melted and cooled slightly so it doesn't kill the yeast

1/2 cup leftover mashed potatoes (I use gold potatoes but russet would probably work also)

1 tsp. salt

3.5-4 cups flour

Instructions

Mix the milk, starter, and sugar in a small bowl. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, mix together the potatoes, egg, butter, and salt.

Add 2 cups of the flour and the milk/sugar/starter mixture to the bowl. Mix until combined. I usually start with a whisk for the first cup of flour, then move to a wooden spoon for the second. You can use your stand mixer here if you want, but the flour WILL go everywhere if, like me, you don't have any kind of guard for the bowl.

Add in flour in half-cup measures, mixing until you reach a dough-like consistency (usually approx. 3-3.5 cups). Once it starts to get hard to mix, you can start using the dough hook for your stand mixer, but this probably won't save you from flour on your counters. You may need more flour if you are in a humid climate. The dough should be sticky enough that you can't pick it up without it sticking to your hands, but cohesive enough that you CAN pick it up.

Knead on medium-high speed for 7-10 minutes, adding flour as needed. The dough should be somewhat sticky but shouldn't stick to the bottom of the bowl; if it is creating a dough-nado in the middle of your bowl that stretches but holds to the bowl when you attempt to lift the stand mixer head, it needs more flour. I usually add about 1/2-3/4 cup of flour during the kneading phase, depending on humidity

Place the dough in an oiled bowl and cover tightly. This dough will not quite double in size, but make sure you don't cut off its ability to grow with whatever you cover it with. Let rise in a slightly-cooler (70-76F) place for 10-12 hours (warm places will speed up the rise but will also encourage more of the sour bacteria to grow, so do with that what you will)

Dividethe risen dough in half and place in lined or oiled loaf pans. I use cast iron loaf pans, which behave VERY differently from non-stick, so be aware that the baking times below are based on that. If you use non-stick, your bread will not rise as much and may take longer to cook.

Let the dough rise for another 2-6 hours, until approximately the size and shape of a somewhat-short bread loaf

Bake at 350F for anywhere from 35-55 minutes (possibly up to an hour at sea level). Bread should have an internal temp of approx. 195 and should sound hollow when knocked on. It should be golden to golden-brown on top, but truthfully just use a meat thermometer and save yourself the trouble

For the true cheez-it taste, toast the bread until the slice is golden-brown, then spread with salted butter.

For best results, make dough in the evening, shape it mid-morning, and bake it in the late afternoon. I made the dough at night, shaped it before catching my bus to work, and baked it when I got home about 6 hours later.

#goblin-recipes #sourdough-goblin #goblin-sourdough #Baking #Recipes #Cooking #Sourdough #cheez its #Sourdough bread #contains-wheat #contains-gluten #contains-dairy #contains-egg #contains-animal-products #uses-stand-mixer #uses-loaf-pan

[mydailysourdoughbread]

#My Daily Sourdough Bread

[hungerpunch]

my dad died on august 10th.

i’ve been feeling the impulse to write about it but haven’t figured out what to say. i didn’t want to say anything cliche, but it turns out the cliches are all true--probably because people have been losing loved ones since the dawn of humanity and there’s nothing unique left to say about it.

there are a couple things haunting me. i hadn’t seen him since christmas, and he passed literally three days before i was supposed to go home and visit. i was so looking forward to seeing him, because just about a month prior he’d confessed to us that he’d been diagnosed with colon cancer back in january. january. all that time, i didn’t go home because i was terrified of COVID-19, not knowing that my dad was dying. he told us that while he couldn’t be treated with chemo because one round had sent him into cardiac arrest, he was participating in a gene therapy trial and getting some good results. he told me not to worry. now i wonder if that was even true, or if it was a lie spun out of a desire to comfort his child. 

the point is, i was too late. 

i had a missed call from my mom at 8am on monday the 10th. i knew then something terrible had happened because she never would have called at 8am for fun. it turns out that she texted k while i slept, so they were prepared, so that they softly tread into the room when they heard me call her back. i'll never forget the tone of my mom’s voice, how she hesitated before softly telling me "daddy died." my whole body turned hot inside, like my organs were rupturing and bleeding out. my stomach throbbed, my heart felt like it was going to seize out of my chest. i hyperventilated in k's arms.

my little sister lives in the same city as me and i wanted to go get her immediately. the first thing that crossed my mind was to brush my teeth. bawling sobbing around a toothbrush was weird.

k took me to pick up my sister and i crawled into the backseat with her and we just held each other, crying and confused. when we got back to my apartment i made us eat bananas because i didn't want our bodies giving out. it took me 30 minutes to nibble through a banana while my sister and i made lists of things we needed to do between rounds of sobbing.

my sister left for st. louis a day ahead of me, because i needed time to notify work, pack, and just generally take a second to breathe. k called my two best friends and they both took the day off work to come and sit with me in my backyard. my one friend brought me a fresh baked loaf of homemade sourdough and hunks of that bread, wine, and water were all that sustained me through the next 36 hours. 

since we have no house in st. louis, we had to crash at the house of a very generous family friend, who lives in a huge (potentially haunted) house with room to spare. my dad died on monday. on tuesday i was in st. louis. on wednesday we had to go to his apartment that he rented and clean out his stuff. i lost it when i saw some of the groceries i'd just had delivered to him on the counter--really healthy shit because i was worried about him eating well while fighting cancer.

i've never really seen my brother cry. but when he walked into my dad's closet and saw all his suits and shirts and ties he just started weeping. when i hugged him he shook so badly and leaned on me so heavily i struggled to stay standing. he and my dad didn't have the best relationship. my brother experienced a lot more anger at him than myself or my sister did and it underpinned their love with tension. that day while i hugged him he just kept saying that he didn't tell my dad "i love you" enough and that he wasted his time with him.

at that time, we still thought we might have an open casket so we needed to pick out a suit. all three kids helped pick it. when we carried it out to my mom, i said "he always looked so sharp in this red tie" and then i crumpled on the ground and hugged the suit and sobbed. only a couple hours later, the funeral service called to tell me his body was not viewable. i'm not sure yet if that was for better or for worse. but it means that christmas 2019 was the last time i ever saw my dad, and i’ll never ever get to see him again.

i caught my mom several times reading their text message history. she had named their chat together "just the two of us” and eventually told me that they were working on a step-by-step plan to be remarried by next summer.

i ended up spending almost two weeks in st. louis. everything happened so fast, and was so confusing, that coming back to chicago has just made it feel fake. i can’t stop thinking about my dad, who i loved deeply and with whom i had a good relationship with despite all the strife surrounding him. it doesn’t make sense. there were so many times in his life my dad actually wanted to die but this wasn’t one of them. and it doesn’t make sense how i’m struggling to process it, given that i’ve spent almost 15 years practicing this grief in my head, anticipating the death of my father.

i’m just mad. at myself and the world. and i know it’s not my fault but i have regrets and i need people to just understand that i’m going to have them, rather than try to talk me out of them. i just cannot believe i will never hear him laugh again. for days after i found out, that’s all i could hear in my head, was his great and roaring laughter--he had such a booming laugh. i can’t believe i’ll never hug him again. i hugged him after suicide attempts, i hugged him when he came home from prison, i hugged him after drug overdoses, i hugged him after he had a heart attack, but i didn’t get to hug him after cancer. 

i’m supposed to get married next august (lol, which feels cruel atp) and i had picked out the song that me and my dad were going to dance to literally just days before he died. so we played the song at his funeral instead. i’m so goddamned pissed that i spent so much of my life, dangling my milestones like carrots in front of him (i want you there for my high school graduation dad! now for college! now for my wedding!) to keep him alive and he didn’t make it to my most important one. all i fucking wanted was to dance with my dad and hear him give a great big emotional toast to me. and now i don’t get that, and i don’t even get less than that, i get nothing. i’ll never see his crooked smile again or the crows feet crinkling by his eyes, i’ll never text him to check how he’s doing or hear the particular way he said “hello!” when he picked up the phone. i’ll never hear him call my name or call me kiddo again. and i’m so fucking pissed because i had no idea it was all coming to an end and i didn’t get to say goodbye, not even to his body.

this is too long already so i’ll close but i guess i would anticipate needing to type fervently into the void about this more than once, so you can blacklist grief diaries if you need to. 

#my lyfe #journal blogging / #text post / #grief diaries #death cw #cancer

[ihatecispeople]

JUST BAKED MY FIRST LOAF OF SOURDOUGH BREAD. I TASTED THE WARM FRESH LOAF AND I HELD THE STARTER UP TO MY FACE AND I WHISPERED “YOU DID SO WELL. I LOVE YOU” BECAUSE THOSE WERE MY TRUE FEELINGS

[recurring-polynya]

How did the sourdough turn out? ❤️ I've been wanting to do this forever but now that I'm home of course there's no flour or yeast to be found.

Here we go again, @kari-izumi asking me about my hyperfixations, lol!

I’ve been baking with sourdough since about 2007, when my now-husband’s aunt gave me a bit of her starter. Getting starter from someone else is the best way to get started with sourdough, but obviously, that’s a little tricky in these current times. An interesting fact is that starter refreshes itself with ambient bacteria from your kitchen, so there’s no point in ever trying to get “San Francisco Sourdough” starter, because it will just turn into Your Kitchen Sourdough within a few months (unless, of course, your kitchen is in San Francisco). Also, the more you bake, the more free-floating flora you’ll have in your kitchen, so as you’re becoming a better baker, your kitchen is also becoming a Better Place For Bread.

Back to the story! I baked with that for a few years, and then I guess I fell off it, and neglected my starter and it went Bad and I had to throw it out. (I don’t exactly recall the circumstances, but I am sure it had something to do with having a baby). A few years later, when I was on maternity leave with my daughter, I decided to try and make my own starter from scratch, here it is, on what is approximately its sixth birthday:

I made it using the method described in Peter Reinhart’s book, the Bread Baker’s Apprentice, which is my go-to artisan bread book. You basically mix up water and rye flour and keep refreshing it until it catches some yeast. I’ve heard of other methods using ripe fruit and stuff, I have never tried that. I know this worked (look at that bubbly bastard!), although it took several months before it became powerful enough to really rise a bread. If you have it, you can always spike a young starter with yeast until it comes into its own.

I am not the best sourdough person in the world. As you can see, I keep it in a plastic Rubbermaid instead of glass or ceramic. It usually lives in my fridge for 2-4 weeks at a time, then I take it out, remove some for baking, and refresh. If want to make a bread, I will try to take it out and refresh it a day before starting the bread.

For the last year or so, the main thing I make with the discard is pizza. My kid doesn’t like tomato sauce, so I make a lot of pizza at home and just roast garlic down to mush instead as sauce, and then throw a bunch of vegetables on to pretend its healthy. What it is, is delicious.

The reason for this is that most of my bread recipes take a 2-3 day build and I’m just not that organized. But I’m home all the time now, so I have been doing it.

Here is the first one I made, which is just a very standard white sourdough loaf (there were actually 2, a lot of recipes make multiple loaves):

It was, as our friend Paul Hollywood would say, massively underproofed, and this picture was strategically taken to hide the huge rip in the bottom. I made those nice slashes, but noOOOOooo it had to explode itself from the bottom. It was also delicious.

A few days later, I decided to make a sunflower rye (both these recipes are in that Reinhart book). I had the sunflower seeds, I just forgot to put them in:

This one was supposed to be in the shape of a couronne (crown) which is supposed to be a ring with four creases, but it outrose its creases. Also delicious.

I then remembered that I used to make English muffins with discard all the time, so I did that, too. If I owned a proper biscuit cutter, I would have made nice circles, but I usually just cut the dough into 12 squares and then they get all funny shaped when I try to scrape them off the counter. I am lazy and life is too short to re-roll scraps, just avoid making scraps in the first place. These make excellent egg sandwiches, but I also ate a few with beans and cheese on them.

The other thing we do with discard a lot is that my husband makes waffles. I don’t know why this has become his thing, but he is waffle guy (for the record, he does the lion’s share of cooking in general, I do the baking) Sourdough starter is a really useful thing to have around the kitchen! I don’t really care for carrot cake, but my husband and son do, and this is probably the best carrot cake I have ever made.

I just want to say, I’ve seen a lot of people on Twitter making fun of folks who are trying out sourdough for the first time, and I strongly disagree: I’m really proud of anyone giving it a go! My philosophy toward things that sound hard has always been, “Eh, why now, what the worst that can happen? I’m bad at it?” So you’re bad at something, and then you work at it, and then you get better. I was real bad at sourdough when I started and I am so, so grateful to my friends and husband who ate so much of my bad bread, especially this one guy I know who would eat ANYTHING, no matter how much of a brick it was. I am a pretty mediocre baker, but I will try anything, and mediocre homemade bread is still really delicious, and it honestly doesn’t take a whole lot of skill to impress your friends. (I have also found this to be true for drawing, gardening, hockey playing and computer programming)

If you’re looking for baking resources, I learned a lot about bread baking from the Fresh Loaf and that Reinhart book that I mentioned. For all-purpose baking, King Arthur is my fav. I took a cinnamon rolls class at their Vermont Baking Center once, and it might have been the best day of my life.

#baking #sourdough

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Blow By Blow ch.6 (baon)

Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’. Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, LV Issues, Brother issues

Notes: My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows With Brotherly LV

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

~~*~~

Read Chapter 6 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Much as Edge enjoying the feel of Stretch sleeping in his arms, breathing soft and even in the same rhythm as the pulse of his soul, the entertainment value eventually waned. Especially in the middle of the day. Gently, and with no few teasing kisses, he nudged Stretch awake and helped him totter to his feet, watching closely as he made his fumbling way upstairs.

Stretch’s clothes had taken the brunt of their earlier play and Edge gathered them from where they’d fallen, grimacing at their state. They’d already been suitable for the dustbin even before, but he would add them to the laundry. Their service in keeping his own clothing free of stains was a worthy sacrifice.

When Stretch came back downstairs, he was dressed in the spoils of raiding Edge’s side of the closet, down to his socks and even a plain t-shirt, something he rarely did. Not that Edge was going to complain; if Stretch was choosing to take his comfort from being wrapped up in his clothes, like a hug made of cotton and thread, that was fine by him. Though Edge did wonder if Stretch had noticed yet that he’d started buying his jeans a little longish and cuffing them, so that when Stretch inevitably borrowed a pair, they would fit. Stretch bypassed the last three steps to hop straight to the landing, and managed to not land on his coccyx. He dusted his hands briskly. “okay, now that that’s out of the way, what’s up for the day?”

“Do you need a moment to mark sexual intercourse off your chore chart?” Edge asked dryly.

“nah, might have to do it again, make sure it got done right.” That cheeky grin would normally have filled Edge with exasperated fondness. Today it was closer to relief.

Edge glanced at the clock. There were a few hours before he needed to do anything about Antwan’s situation. He could get some work done, but Stretch had already spent his morning misery-binging reruns. And he still hadn’t had lunch.

“We can do whatever you like, but lunch should be somewhere on the agenda.”

“well, call me a crazy romantic, but i’m starving. feed me?”

“Gladly, Seymour.” But instead of letting him slouch back on the sofa, Edge took his hand and tugged. “Come on, you can help.”

“what? nooo, that is a terrible idea.” His socked feet slid along the carpet as Edge pulled him determinedly along. “seriously, i’m a shitty cook, babe, you know that!”

“Actually, I know no such thing.” His tactic stalled at the kitchen door and instead Edge picked Stretch up, ignoring his squawking and carrying him in. “You’re a decent baker when you try. You aren’t bad at cooking, you just don’t like it, which translates into poor effort.”

“see there!” Came from about the middle of Edge’s back. “poor effort!”

“But you’ll put in effort today, I’m sure. Since I’m injured and need your help.”

Silence, then sullenly. “dirty pool, babe.” Stretch sighed and dangled for a long moment over Edge’s shoulder before grudgingly, “okay, okay. i’ll help.”

Edge set him on his feet and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheekbone. “Thank you.”

“yeah, yeah. what do you want?”

What he wanted was Stretch in the same room with him, until he could be sure his dark mood wasn’t going to pull the shutters again. What he said was, “Get a loaf of the sourdough bread from the pantry. It’s marked.”

While Stretch did that, Edge rummaged in the refrigerator, “I know that mustard isn’t your preferred condiment, but I find it gives this sandwich a much-needed tang.”

“tangy, yeah, no wonder your brother likes it. got a hell of a tang, doesn’t he.”

Edge hummed in agreement, unwrapped the cheese he’d chosen. Gruyere and sharp cheddar, and pulled out the grater. “I suppose that’s a way to put it. What were you two talking about earlier?”

It would be a refreshing change to have even one person in his life that responded well to the direct approach. But it wouldn’t be happening today. Stretch only plunked the bread on the counter and shrugged. “nothing.”

“Nothing. Hm.” Edge eyed the pile of shredded cheese measuringly. A little more. “The two of you stood around in silence, then. It must’ve been very boring.”

“nah, your bro is never short on entertainment. “ He stole a pinch of the shredded cheese, dancing back before Edge could swat him and munching it happily. He licked his fingers and said, more seriously, “we’re okay, babe, you don’t need to worry.”

“No?”

“nope. we got an understanding, me and Red.”

Edge paused as he sliced the bread. “That sounds utterly horrifying.”

“probably is. what are we making, anyway?”

“Grilled cheese.” Eight slices of bread used most of the loaf. That was fine, he’d already planned to make more on Saturday.

“fancy.”

“Good doesn’t need to be fancy, and you like grilled cheese.”

“i like your grilled cheese.” Stretch dragged one of the stools from the small breakfast bar over and sat, chin propped up on one hand. “why do you shred the cheese?”

“I find it melts more evenly.” Edge began spreading mayonnaise on the bread slices. “Grilled cheese may not be considered fancy, but there’s no reason to not do it right.”

Stretch only nodded, watching intently as he carefully mounded the cheese on the bread, adding a slice of onion and smear of mustard. With only a little nudging, Stretch did the same and if shreds of cheese were trailing out of his imperfectly balanced sandwiches, Edge ignored it.

He set a pan to heat on the stove and waggled a finger at Stretch in a silent ‘come hither’. It was crowded with both of them at the stove, all elbows fighting for space and Stretch ignoring the toasting sandwiches in favor of trying to get a hand under Edge’s untucked shirt. In the end, they had four imperfect toasted cheese sandwiches, unevenly browned and with melted cheese clinging in long strings to fingers and mouths whenever they took a bite.

Edge thought they might well be the best sandwiches he’d ever eaten, and his soul was calm.

Afterward, they curled up on the sofa together to watch new episodes of The Great British Baking Show, and it never failed to amuse Edge how invested Stretch was for someone who claimed to be such a terrible cook.

“it’s a genoise sponge,” Stretch huffed. He was mostly lying across Edge’s lap, allowing him to trace the suture lines on his skull with a gentle finger. “he already over-mixed it and now he keeps opening the oven!”

“It’s going to fall,” Edge agreed. His phone lit up with a text message from Alphys, confirming that she could see them in the morning. He closed it discreetly and listened to Stretch rant as they waited to see if the poor sponge cake would be worth elimination. Honesty was important, yes, but he thought it could wait a few hours yet.

It was late afternoon and at the end of the available episodes when Edge finally told Stretch, “I need to go over your brother’s for a moment, I won’t be long.”

That dragged his attention from the Netflix menu. “my brother? what for?”

“Penance,” Edge said dryly. “I won’t be long…unless you want to come along?”

“nah,” Stretch rolled off him with a groan and settled on one of the sofa cushions, a distant second when it came to places to lay his head. “i’ve been seeing him every day since andy moved in and if i tag along, it won’t be a moment.”

That was true. Edge took a moment to straighten his shirt, adjusting it with the sleeves rolled up, then dropped a kiss on Stretch’s skull before stepping into his shoes.

It wasn’t a far walk and the weather was nice enough to take in the fresh air. Since he’d skipped his run that morning, he could settle for this. The sidewalks were mostly empty, only a few children still playing before getting called in for dinner, and when Edge arrived he was pleased to see the delivery he’d requested was right on time.

Blue answered the door on the first knock, beaming up at him, “Edge, hello! Did you come over for some more healing?”

“No,” he stepped inside as Blue held open the door. “Actually I was hoping to speak to you. It’s about your brother.”

That made Blue perk up like a prairie dog out of its burrow, as he’d known it would. He’d been trying to think of a plan on how to get Blue out of the house most of the afternoon, and this one had only occurred to him on his walk over. It would work, but there would be consequences, he knew.

“What’s wrong?” Blue could always be counted on his brisk efficiency when it came to Stretch. “Nothing is wrong, exactly,” Edge said, “and he hasn’t said anything specific. But I think your brother has been missing you lately.” The stars that made up Blue’s eye lights widened into a brilliant gleam, “He has?” “Yes,” Edge said gravely. Silently, he sent up a prayer to whomever might listen to LV-scarred Monsters that his husband would forgive him for chucking him under the proverbial bus that was his brother’s concern. Blue frowned, considering, “But he’s been over every day!” “Ah, but Jeff is here. I think maybe he misses it being just the two of you. Would you mind stopping over?” Edge coaxed. “Just for a bit? I need to see Jeff for a few minutes, it should give you a little time to talk.” Blue was already stripping off his apron. Edge only watched him go, already guiltily thinking up ways to make it up to Stretch. Hopefully before his husband started contemplating the death part of till death do us part. But he couldn’t deny himself a tiny shred of smugness. Call him a bad liar.

The door was barely closed when one opened upstairs and Jeff came out, calling down, “Did you want to get started on dinner...oh! Hi, Edge.”

“Hello,” Edge said evenly. “Blue stepped out for a moment. I can’t stay long, but I wanted to give you this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key ring.

If he had to guess, Edge would think that a year ago, Jeff wouldn’t have squealed in delight in front of him, dashing down the stairs to reach for the keys.

Edge definitely wouldn’t have deliberately held them higher, out of his reach. It made Jeff laugh and give him a little shove, “C’mon, you shit, give!”

“I’m sorry, I must be having trouble with Human customs,” Edge told him blandly, holding them higher as Jeff made to jump for them. “That didn’t sound at all like thank you, Edge. I appreciate all your hard work, Edge. Please let me have the keys to my new car, Edge, I will forever be grateful.”

That earned him a somewhat tremulous laugh. “Thank you, Edge.” Jeff’s smile was nearly as bright as Blue’s eye lights. “I mean it. Thank you, for everything. For the job, getting me into New New Home—

And that was enough of that. “We’ll see if you’re thanking me after the first public relations crisis. Now, come look at your car.”

He followed Jeff outside to the sedan parked in the driveway. It was as green as grass, with top of the line safety features, and Edge was about to remind him of his promise about seat belts when his phone buzzed. what in the name of fuck did you tell my brother, you asshole! you just bitched at me and now you’re pulling this??? The variety of angry emoticons that followed made him wince and Edge hastily texted back. That you missed him so Antwan would have a chance to speak to Jeff in private so they can work out whatever their problems are. There was a long pause and then, you’re lucky. next time let me in on the schemes to dupe my bro.

His sigh of relief was heartfelt. Sofa banishment averted, this time. While Jeff was busy examining his car, Edge took a second to send a text to Antwan that the coast was temporarily clear.

Now it was up to him.

~~*~~

Marrow hitting the snow, steaming wet crimson, and screaming, endless screaming. He can’t see, can’t find his brother, and there is so much screaming—

Edge woke with a gasp, his soul hot and throbbing, lying on sheets soaked with his own sweat as he struggled to breathe in the cooler air.

“edge?”

He jerked at the sound of his name, barely registering the hushed concern. Stretch was on the far side of the bed, making no attempt to touch and there was the faint crackle of his own magic in reach, ready for a hasty shortcut.

That was good, yes, allowed him to relax a little. That was the promise he’d gotten from Stretch the night before. They could sleep together if Stretch promised him he’d go if he thought…if he were afraid…if it seemed like a bad episode.

"Talk to me," Edge said. His voice was in ragged threads and he was still concentrating on taking deep breaths, but he desperately wanted to hear Stretch. "Tell me something unusual. Something hardly anyone knows." Stretch’s eye lights flickered as he blinked. “um. okay…did you know that there are five recognized dwarf planets in our solar system?”

Perfect. “I did not know that.”

“yeah, i mean, personally i think that’s some bullshit and that pluto deserves to be up with the big boys again, but no one’s pounding down the door for my opinion. anyway, so right now there are five, but there’s like, a hundred or so proposed ones and—“

Edge closed his sockets and listened to the winding ramble of his husband’s voice extolling the various attributes of heavenly bodies and whether they had earned a planetary legacy. The agitated throb of his soul slowly eased, gentling to a more normal pulse. Stretch’s voice only paused once, a startled hitch when Edge settled a careful hand on his ankle, the only place he could reach.

Stretch followed that gentle tug across the bed, settling against Edge’s side without a care for the damp sheets, tugging the blankets over them. Talking about hydrostatic equilibrium and orbital eccentricity and Edge listened to that well-loved voice speaking unknown, beautiful-sounding words until the first light of dawn crept into the window, letting them chase away the night.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

[melodieoftheuniverse]

A Slice of Boterkoek

A scene involving my version of Siebren and Selene.

The two had met in passing outside between classes, but had not had a true conversation since the impromptu lunch and chocolate moment two weeks ago. In the time between, Siebren had consumed anything and everything he could find on reputable sources about schizophrenia, especially regarding treatments. He had missed this feeling of a new interest and voracious desire for more information, but had decided midway through to keep things to himself unless she brought it up. He didn’t want to seem prying, and the simple accidental mention of her sister nearly sent her into tears, he did not want to be the cause of that. 

Siebren had no real skill in the kitchen past easy, ready-made meals, so he decided to stop by a bakery on the way to campus and pick up one of his favorites to share with his new acquaintance—could he call her that? He had always been the odd child in any group, and any time he had attempted to gain friends, they had always shunned him for daring to rejoin the group the next day. But the word fit. It felt right. And unlike most, she didn’t seem to judge him on anything. 

It was that reason that led him to choose the boterkoek from the display case. And, in his purely professional observation, food tended to be a better social lubricant.

The third time meeting, and you’re bringing her a cake, his inner voice noted. Aren’t you afraid she’ll take the calorie-laden dessert as an offense? Afraid she’ll state it’ll spoil her girlish figure?

Siebren silenced the voice with a shake of his head. What would one small slice do? Selene clearly enjoyed food, but perhaps this “social experiment” of his might teach her a more epicurean approach. How to savor, how to taste the different notes and how they became a symphony together. He snorted and shook his head again. Back to music. It circled back around to music.

He found himself walking perfectly in time to the synth music playing through his headphones, fighting the urge to let more of his body express itself. Walking in a regular rhythm was socially acceptable; flat-out “grooving” would only earn him more stares than he usually received for his height and build. He did allow himself a small head bob and a shoulder swing here and there but otherwise tried to keep his mask of normalcy firmly planted. He had started to turn towards the entrance to the building when he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. He initially dismissed it as a bird of some sort but as he turned slightly, noticed the side to side motion couldn’t be duplicated by a bird, save a large one like a crane, and those were only found in zoos in this area. He turned to face the motion fully and found Selene kneeling and waving furiously at him. He smiled, plucked an earbud out and waved back with the same hand. He noted that she had left her hair down, this being the first time he could truly see the length--and, his inner voice noted, how the sunlight caught the highlights in her auburn hair.

He shook the voice silent again, replaced the earbud, and turned back to the door, Selene’s waving returning to the previous intensity. He faced her again, pointed towards the door, and nodded in the same direction.

She shook her head, moved her arms in a large “no”, and pointed to a spot across from her on the grass.

He shook his head with exaggerated movements, and pointed back to the door.

She scowled, planted her hands on her hips, and settled into a deeper kneel.

He narrowed his eyes, but Selene had done all but put down roots. He clearly wasn’t going to win. He sighed, turned on his heels, and walked over to where she sat on the grass, dodging a flock of freshmen en route to their classes, plucking out his remaining earbud and pocketing both. 

“I thought we could sit under the stars,” Selene began as he approached the edge of her blanket, the opposite edge pinned down by her bookbag. 

He loomed over her, feeling the nearly-ever-present frown begin to tug at his face. “It’s daytime,” he replied dryly.

“Star, then,” she replied, not missing a beat. “The Sun is a star, yes? And technically we are under the stars, the Sun is just bright enough to outdo their light.” She smiled up at him, the smile unwavering until Siebren sighed and sat on an open corner of the blanket. “You look like you could use some outside time anyways.”

He casually ignored the dig at his complexion and brought the bag with the confection around to the front, having it join the spread Selene already had set out. There were slices of various cheeses both soft and hard that joined different types of sausages and salami on two plates. Next to those on other plates were both fresh and dried fruits and two different types of bread, one a sliced baguette, the other a loaf clearly intended to have chunks pulled off as needed. “What inspired the charcuterie al fresco?”

“I wanted something different. Routine is nice, but it’s also nice to change things up every now and then. Agreed?” 

Siebren stayed silent as he untied the knot in the bag and pulled out the boterkoek. That point of view was almost the polar opposite of his own. Routines were comfy, predictable. Inside was still; outside was loud, windy, messy. This change would probably throw his entire day off.

“Ooh, what’s that?” she asked, adopting the same child-like gaze she had when she noticed the projector when they had first met.

“Dessert,” he replied simply. She fixed him with a look, and he returned it with like intensity. “Dessert means after the meal. And after the meal, I will share with you one of my favorite things.” 

She snorted in annoyance, but his look remained unwavering. She grumbled, grabbed a slice of Calabrese salami, folded it, and inserted the entire thing into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated motions. He tried to remain stern, but he could feel one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. He waited until she had finished her angry chewing before crossing his legs in front of him in a more comfortable position, reaching out for one of the softer cheeses, brie, he believed. It was a young brie, the rind not quite sitting in his nose like it should. Still, it was a good compliment to the Genoa salami and...sourdough?

“I got a 90 on my last math test,” she started, grabbing a sip of water from her bottle. “He said he’d give it to my lab teacher for me to work through and maybe get some points back.”

He smiled. “Glad you took my advice on seeking accommodations.” He plucked a grape off the bunch and popped it into his mouth. A bit of sweet to offset the abundance of savory. “Let me know if it helps.”

She nodded, mouth full of a bite of bread. “It seems to be,” she answered after swallowing. “I don’t like the fact that math is this hard for me.”

He shrugged. “I am bad at expressing myself in writing. I have trouble keeping my numbers straight, but I’ve learned strategies over the years.” He rolled up a slice of cheese, then glanced over at her. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. And perhaps your mistakes come from your state of constant hurry.”

Selene stared up at him, pulling the cheese cube away from her tongue. “And what do you mean by that?”

He leaned back, placing the cheese on his lap, letting it unroll. “Think back to the first day we met.”

“I was trying to get some food in my stomach before my class. I hadn’t had breakfast that day, so I was getting something to keep me from keeling over.”

“Ah, there it is. Time management.”

She adjusted the way she was sitting. “You’re not trying to psychoanalyze me, are you?”

“Budding astrophysicist, not psychologist. Or psychiatrist, I can never remember which. But no, your problem is time management. You have little to no sense of time...” he paused slightly, catching the glare over her water bottle, “and when it’s time to do something, it has to happen now or else. Have you considered a planner?”

“Use them for two months, then forget where I put them. Next option.”

Siebren inclined an eyebrow. He was not used to having a suggestion so quickly dismissed. “The calendar on your phone, perhaps?”

“I’ve never used it,” she stated, tearing off another hunk of bread.

“Perhaps now is the time to start?” he proposed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She sighed, pulled her phone out of her bag, and tossed it across the blanket to land in front of him. 

He sighed as well, adopting a pose he more commonly had when listening to underclassmen explain why they needed more time on an assignment to professors in the department. He purposely took other assignments that didn’t involve being a TA for that reason. “I was going to talk you through, but if you’d like me to set up the first few reminders…”

“Reminders for what? When to get to class?”

“No,” he muttered, slightly disturbed she had no security on her phone--perhaps the next lesson? “Important things. Like remembering to eat. To take a drink of water. To use the bathroom…” He glanced up, her ice blue eyes studying him. “I get caught up in my work too. There have been days where I’ve forgotten to eat and drink anything, and I’ve paid dearly for it.” Her eyes sized him up as he said that. “Let’s start simple. When do you wake up?”

“When do I have to, or when I should?”

He snorted in amusement. “When you should be up. An attempt to retrain your mind into useful habits.”

She plucked two grapes and squirreled them into her cheeks. “My first class is at eight. I live on campus, though.”

He nodded. “And what is your morning routine?”

“Routine?”

“Surely you have things you do every morning? Take a shower, brush your teeth—” he rubbed his tongue over his front teeth subconsciously, noting that he had neglected his own teeth this morning “—have a cup of coffee with hagelslag…” She stared at him with half a slice of sausage in her teeth. “Buttered bread with chocolate sprinkles.”

“For breakfast? That’s considered a normal breakfast?”

He nodded and made a mental note to stop by the store and pick up another box for later. “Do you eat breakfast?”

She shook her head. “It’s not normally a thing. I’m not hungry until like two hours after I wake up, and it’s just easier to skip until lunch.” She stared down at the plates, consolidating the six down to three. 

“Perhaps you could consider a breakfast shake of sorts? I have a lovely recipe for one using cooked oats, peanut butter, a banana, seasonal fruit...fix it before you leave and sip on it as you go.”

“I’ll think about it.” She made a sandwich using a slice of baguette, sausage, Swiss cheese, and a grape, somehow managing to get the entire thing into her mouth. “So I have a wake up alarm and a eat breakfast alarm?”

He nodded. “Now, what is your class schedule this semester?”

She pulled a crumpled half sheet of paper from her bag, rolled up onto her knees and handed it over to him. He glanced down at the page, then back up to her. 

“Yes, I know you’re judging me.”

“Not judging. Just...considering other methods. Examining at a different angle. A three-ring binder with a front pocket, for instance, is a good starting point. Reprint this schedule, slide it into the front, put notes and such inside, since you also like doing things by hand—”

“It kinda becomes muscle memory if I write things down,” she stated, picking up the train of thought easily. “I watch my classmates type stuff and...it feels like we’ve lost touch. My parents were telling me and my sister once that they were probably the last ones to be taught cursive in class.”

Siebren briefly held his breath and stole glances over at her while he inputted when and where her first class was as well as when she should be leaving to get there on time. She had simply continued talking about how she felt she was the only one in her classes who hand wrote anything aside from response papers, seemingly glossing over the mention of her sister. He let his breath out slowly and continued adding reminders and alarms as she finished her train of thought and any meat and cheese that remained on the plates, leaving a small bunch of grapes and two dried apricots on the now stacked plates. He had waited until she had finished her train of thought before taking over, explaining how each of his alerts worked, how he had learned these coping mechanisms in Secondary School and how they had carried over easily to University, requiring only slight tweaks each semester. When he had finished explaining his methods, he noted an odd silence from Selene. He stopped and glanced up.

Selene gazed up at him, head cradled in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. “Your voice...you sound like a chocolate cake.”

“Pardon?”

“Or maybe...the warm caramel drizzle on cold vanilla ice cream.”

He set the phone down and regarded her with another raised eyebrow. He had received comments on his deep baritone voice before, but had never been compared to...food before. 

“I’ve heard some people compare it to a smooth bourbon, but I don’t drink.”

He blinked. “The caramel, or…”

“You have the most wonderful sounding voice,” she said, sitting up, still with a stupid grin across her face. “I could just listen to you go on and on…” she trailed off.

He cleared his throat and rolled up his sleeves. It had been a comfortable temperature outside before, had it gone up since they had started the picnic? “Uh...perhaps time for dessert?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Her eyes redirected to the box still between them. He let out a grateful sigh at the change of attention. He opened the box while she pulled out two of the cleanest plates in the stack, then scoffed when he pulled out the slice.

“Is that all?”

No fears of losing her figure here, he chided his inner voice. “You’ve never had boterkoek?” She shook her head. “You poor thing. Let me enlighten you.” He handed her a piece, fished through the bag for a fork, and waited for her to take a bite. She practically purred as she bit into the dense cake.

“Oh...this is good...really good.” She closed her eyes as she swallowed. “How has this not made it over to the States?”

Ah, she is American. “I’m certain there’s areas it’s found. Surely there must be a ‘Little Amsterdam’ to go along with ‘Little Italy’ and ‘Chinatown’?”

“Not in my area.” She took another forkful, chewing slowly, moving it from one side of her mouth to the other. “What did you say this is again?”

“Boterkoek. Butter cake, in essence.”

“Butter cake?”

He nodded. “Butter, sugar, flour. Some add vanilla or lemon zest. I prefer it as is, but if flavor is added, almond, in my opinion, is best.”

“Is that what I’m tasting?”

He shook his head as he grabbed a slice of his own. “I figured I would start you out on what I feel is the purest take. A control, if you will.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So...this is an ongoing experiment?”

“If you will. Many data points.”

“Indeed. Are you providing the samples?”

“I can. But there must be time between the samples. As to not overwhelm the data pool.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She took another bite. “Sound scientific method. I take it you’ve done this experiment before?”

“A purely original hypothesis.”

“I see.” She gave him a sideways grin.

There was a part of him that told him he was clearly missing something socially, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Rather than focus on that, he instead turned his attention back to the dessert. If this was his control, how could he possibly improve?

“So...next week is the next sample size?”

“Perhaps,” he said, swallowing. “Perhaps I assist you with some of your issues in the interim?”

“What issues would that be?”

“Homework?” He watched something in her demeanor change. “Perhaps these meetings become more frequent, I help tutor you, I introduce you to my culture, you enlighten me to yours?”

She smiled. “That sounds fair. Can we switch off where we meet? I know you like inside, but on days like this, can we study al fresco?”

“That sounds agreeable. Tomorrow in the eatery? It’s expected to rain.”

“Sure. I’ll bring dessert.”

#Siebren de Kuiper #Selene Tauber #OC #Opa and Oma #feedback appreciated #poor clueless boy #food porn?

[authorspooks]

I made sourdough! + pics

Like many others right now I took under the responsibility of making sourdough during quarantine. Yes, a responsibility, as this isn't your impulsive break and bake cookies or a simple one-day endeavor. I raised bacteria like my own children and only fed them the best unbleached all purpose flour. FOR FOUR WEEKS. FOUR. It was a long and tiring journey, as my body was unwilling to get up at a decent hour every morning to feed my children and feed them before bed. At times I wanted to give up, quarantine depression kicking my butt, yet I persevered.

Finally, the float test worked. Hallelujah! Praise the bread Goddess! I have cultivated a proper culture for my sour wheat sponge!

Now this is the first place where I might have gone wrong. After succeeding the float test, I continued to feed it for a few days in hopes to bake with my boyfriend, as the recipe I wanted to follow makes two loaves. But mother goose refused to let her grandchildren freeload on her flour for another week so I had to complete the journey alone. So, I didn't repeat the float test because I forgot, so for all I know my starter could have been not ready that day.

First step: make actual bread. I made the autolyse, which is basically the first step to the starter but you just add actual starter halfway into the process. The measurements in which you make the initial dough vary from recipe to recipe, seemingly for the same amount of dough, and my two brain cells can only work so hard. So, going by Bon Appetite's recipe, I could have messed it up here as well. 1000 grams of flour looks like a metric fuckton of flour. I stared at my little kitchen scale and the Mt. Everest of flour for several confused minutes wondering if something was wrong or if I was getting up over my head. The latter proved true as the day went on.

After mixing massive amounts of flour, water, then smaller parts starter, and salt, it got to hang out for a while on my countertop, loosely covered. Did it rise? Was it supposed to? I don't know, I played minecraft almost an hour longer than I should have and had a mini aneurysm thinking I messed it up already. Ah how naive I was to think purely existing near this process couldn’t have already screwed my loaves up.

Dear god whatever you do, don't put high-hydration bread dough on your countertop to slap and fold (or as I coined it, Aries kneading, even thought I am not an Aries nor did I enjoy it one bit) as this shit sticks to everything. You scoop this massive lump with your baby hands and lift, only to slap to down with the velocity of an earth bender in hopes it folds over itself and continues to congeal into a more workable texture. Spoiler! It didn't. It was sticky and unpleasant to touch till I set it metaphorically aflame (as thankfully no ovens were harmed in the making of my sour bricks).

Things looked up as I went into the proofing process. Three hours of letting it fester in a warm oven, every 30 minutes lifting the dough to fold over and create gluten strands. Warm. Fold. Repeat. And hey! An hour and a half in, the dough was looking like dough! Due to heavy amounts of canola oil it was almost easy to lift and fold without feeling like a fly on a glue trap!

Finally, I was onto shaping. Here’s another problem: BA used these fancy bread baskets and overall made perfect, easy breezy loaves. I was armed with loaf pans and spite. So I made due with a second recipe, which involved seemingly no flour and lots of oil. While BA used flour, and no oil. A conundrum. A decision. I don't like decisions. So in a fit of panic with a handful of dough I ended up doing both, shaping and resting in oil, then flipping onto a bed of flour and folding up the bottom to seal the loaves.

(Ignore of awful attempt at scoring, there isn't a sharp knife in this house and it drives me insane)

If anything, I don't think this is where I went wrong, with all other factors in play. I'm sure I could have tossed my unshapen globs in a loaf pan and fired that boi up and still gotten sub-par results. I think my biggest mistake is that I have no self control.

See, after you shape, you let it bulk proof. You basically let it sit in its basket or pan till it gets nice and big and proofed. 1-3 hours, said the pan recipe. BA said 12 hours. I settled for a totally even 2-ish hours and popped my babies in. No dutch ovens. No fancy volcanic rock and water underneath to create steam. Just hope.

Loaf one, Bricksly.

Loaf two, Pickle Brick.

In the end the bread came out great, 10/10 would never do again since I didn’t have to cognizance to dedicate 4 weeks to anything else ever again. Sure, it was almost two pounds each of bread, dense as a brick and on the inside, a gumminess that seemed like something one should not ingest, and instead possibly use as wall insulation.

But thankfully, copious amounts of butter can fix anything. It’s a good toast bread, not so much a sandwich bread. I’m just glad I was able to make something edible with how little I know about bread-making! Especially my first try being a more tedious recipe.

Fill free to send me questions or share your bread making stories! It’ll be a while before I can try making it again (mother goose says I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore, pfft) but I’d love to chat about it all!

#bread #sourdough bread #BA #bon appetit #cooking #baking

[calvin-af-crone]

Maybe that Sour dough book Supadupa fan pointed out on the counter in I think it was in one of Calvin’s other watermelon stories when he first got back from Ibiza where you could hear Aarika trying not to laugh. I wonder if she tried one of the recipes from that book?

I have no doubt she tried one of those recipes because that’s an “artisan” loaf in the oven, not some ordinary sourdough in a bread pan. I wonder if she gathered the wild yeast. That’s the true test of doing bread the old-fashioned tastiest way. Did I tell ya’ll about the time I gathered wild yeast that was unbelievably potent? Yep. My husband & I got drunk on sourdough bread. It was amazing. Who knew such a thing was possible? LOL!

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Fifty-Four: A Bird Cage ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji ] [ SasuHina, death, animal death ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

It had been a birthday gift from her father to her cousin: a sleek, golden-wired bird cage, complete with a canary that sang like there was no tomorrow. Neji had been fond of birds since he was young, lamenting not having one of his own. The dawn of his thirteenth year saw him finally get one. No more staring longingly at wild avians, or ones that looked to him dolefully in the pet shops. He finally had one all his own.

And oh how he loved it.

When it wasn’t in its cage (which was rarely), it was sat upon his shoulder. He could be doing homework, eating, finishing chores, and the little golden bird would be there, singing and singing. Neji would always tell her he hated to see the creature caged, so he kept it out as often as he could. It wasn’t true freedom...but it was more than the bars of its confines.

The pair were a match made in heaven...until tragedy struck.

Hinata and Neji had been walking home after dark, having stayed at school for a basketball game. The younger cousin’s crush had been playing, and insisted she watch. And Neji, ever much the older brother, had stayed. They didn’t live far from the high school, and so the jaunt back seemed simple enough.

But not that night.

The assailant came out of nowhere, taking Hinata by the arm. Her cry alerted Neji, who - without a hint of fear - had moved to take her back. Knocked aside as the pair tussled just within the mouth of an alleyway, Hinata hadn’t the time to get back up before she noticed a glint of metal. It shone brightly for a moment in the lamplight before disappearing...as the blade sank into her cousin’s side.

He’d grunted in pain, threw the man off as the knife remained in place. Then unarmed, he’d fled into the night

Hinata had no experience with wounds - frantic fingers had tried to do something. Anything! She knew well enough not to remove the weapon, lest he bleed out...but it was clear something vital had been struck. Crying out for help, Hinata wasn’t answered as blood pooled and skin grew cold.

...he’d given his life to save her.

Pronounced dead on the scene, there was no trip to the hospital. Hinata, in shock, remained with an ambulance as they worked to keep her conscious. All she could do was stare, not quite believing.

From that day on...the house was silent. Hardly a word was spoken...but most noticeable was the lack of birdsong. The little canary went quiet, clearly aware of the loss.

It refused to eat, to drink. A trip to the vet found nothing wrong. But Hinata knew, when she found it still at the bottom of the birdcage the next morning...it had died from a broken heart. The boy it had loved since being brought home was gone.

She’d buried the little thing in the backyard, next to a memorial in the garden she kept for her cousin. It might not have been Neji’s burial site, but...it was as close as she could bring them.

Hiashi had tried to throw away the cage, but Hinata insisted she keep it. When asked why, she had no answer...save that it was one last relic that tied the two together.

It went with her when she moved out, hung in a corner in her apartment. And still, it remained empty. To try and replace the previous occupant felt..wrong.

Her landlady - who doubled as her boss that owned the bakery just beneath her - had asked about it once. Hinata’d told the tale, and the older woman never again brought it up.

It seemed it would forever incite silence.

Or...so it seemed.

Today, Hinata is running late - a hard thing to do when work is only a flight of stairs away. But her boss is indulging: a kindhearted woman five years her senior who gave her the place to stay once her father kicked her out. Any child of his refusing college, he’d said, had no place under his roof.

So, now Hinata lives in a tiny studio apartment...but the smell of fresh bread permeates everything. She considers it a win-win.

The morning is always their busiest time: people seeking breakfast before work flood the bakery every weekday. But the pair of them revel in it, hardly noticing the passing time in the rush.

Today, however, things get a little...interesting.

After the first wave, the pair find themselves in a bit of a lull, talking amiably as they tidy up and prepare for the inevitable second round. It’s during the quiet that a lone customer walks in, shouldering his duffle bag and glancing to the menu.

Her boss takes the order as Hinata finishes mopping, washing up and then filling the quota: a loaf of sourdough bread, and an iced coffee: black. A little odd, given that it’s still Winter, but...well, the customer gets what the customer wants.

With the bread bagged, she goes to turn and deliver the drink...only to find a spot still wet from her cleaning. Her shoes slip out from under her, and with a cry, Hinata topples over...and the drink goes flying.

...all over him.

Thankfully she doesn’t conk her head on anything, waving away her boss and insisting she’s fine, far more concerned (and mortified) about the man beyond the counter. Rattling off apologies, Hinata tries to make amends only for him to wave them aside.

“It’s fine - I’ve got my gym clothes in my bag, I can just change.”

“I-I live just upstairs - I can wash your shirt for you!”

“No, really - I -”

“Please! A-and you can change there - our bathroom’s so small, it’d be a pain.”

He glances to the manager, who shrugs. “...okay, sure.”

Hinata scurries up the stairs before him, fumbling her keys and unlocking the door. “The b-bathroom’s over there - I can rinse the shirt in the sink so it doesn’t stain.”

“Thanks.”

To her embarrassment, he just...strips it off then and there before moving to fish his spare shirt out of his bag. Well...so much for using the bathroom. Spinning around pink-faced, Hinata channels her nervous energy into scrubbing the garment.

“...you have a bird?”

“I...w-what?”

“You’ve got a birdcage.”

Mid motion, Hinata goes stock still.

He seems to realize he hit a nerve. “...er…”

“...my cousin did. Before he, um...before he d-died.”

“Oh, shit...I’m sorry.”

“...it’s fine. It was...a long time ago now. But...I just couldn’t get rid of the cage. I’m not sure why.”

Redressed, he crosses the room to admire it, hands in his pockets. “...he liked birds?”

“Very much so.”

“Y’know, I volunteer at a raptor sanctuary. If you want, I could get you a free pass.”

The offer comes out of nowhere. A free pass? After she’s the one who inconvenienced him? “...um…?”

“Seems like you’re attached to them, too. Or...the idea of them. Thought maybe you’d enjoy it.”

There’s a blink, and then she softens. “...I guess I would. Neji would have liked it more…though that reminds me, I didn’t...introduce myself. I’m Hinata.”

“Sasuke.”

Wringing out the shirt, Hinata eyes it carefully, seeing no trace of the coffee. “Okay...I think it’s all right. I’m...so sorry about that, Sasuke.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a shirt.”

“Still...I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Accidents happen - no worries. And it looks fine. I need to wash all my stuff anyway.”

Hands now empty, Hinata absentmindedly fiddles them. “I-I’ll pay for your drink.”

“It’s fine.”

“But -?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He gives a snort. “You always so overly polite?”

“Y-you’re a customer!”

“Yeah, but you don’t gotta bend over backwards. You washed my shirt, so call it even.”

Lips purse into a small pout.

Descending the stairs again, they come back out into the bakery, still quiet. “So, this is the place I volunteer at,” Sasuke offers, handing her a card. “Just ask for me - I’m there every Saturday, I can get you in.”

“So...do you like birds…?”

“Big ones,” he replies with a hint of a grin. “Hawks, mostly - we help rehabilitate them. I can introduce you to a few we’ve got around right now.”

“O...okay!”

With his order finally finished (and in one piece), Sasuke takes his leave with a farewell. The remaining pair watch him go before Hinata’s boss turns to her. “So…”

“...so?”

“You got yourself a date!”

“W-what?! N-no, I just -”

She laughs, hands on her hips. “He invited you out so he could see you again!”

“W-we were just talking about birds, that’s all! He didn’t ask me out, he just...brought it up because it was relevant!”

The elder woman just smiles knowingly. “...well, you better take him up on it - you don’t meet cuties like that every day, hm?”

“P-please, that’s not -!”

Before she can refuse, the bell dings as a small group of customers walks in. Her boss just gives a glance and a nod before they concede back to work.

A date...it’s not a date! It’s just...just a… Admittedly, she’s not sure what to call it. But...well, she’d be happy to see such interesting birds up close, regardless.

Neji...I wish you could go with me. I’ll take lots of pictures, if I can! And maybe, someday soon...she’ll be able to fill the birdcage again.

     This prompt was...very random xD Of course the first thing I associate in Naruto with birds and cages is Neji, so...I tried to work that into a modern AU to have it lead to a meeting between our typical ship. I'm not...sure I pulled this off very well. It feels like it should be a lot longer. But sadly my time is limited, so...hopefully it's still somewhat passable.      Anywho, that's all for tonight. I'll see everyone tomorrow! Thanks for reading~

#uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga neji #sasuhina #death // #animal death // #best years of your life [ au ] #365daysofsasuhina