#ok so basically i was grabbing some food out and i sprinkle the cheese and im like huh this cheese kinda stale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 3: Sun’s Out Buns Out

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Let the pining begin.

@lumosinlove

“Oh my god, there’s ducks!” Finn said excitedly, pointing to the ducks swimming in the pond nearby. Their next challenge was taking place in a small park on the outskirts of the city, which made Logan a little nervous. He was just getting used to the setup of the kitchens, and now he had to deal with this. Finn let out an aww as a group of ducklings followed their mom. “Look at ‘em, they’re so cute.”

Logan looked warily at the setup of grills a few feet away. “I don’t think we’re here to look at ducks.”

“Good morning, recruits!” Dorcas called, waving them over. Leo stood beside her, hair turned golden in the sunlight. Logan blamed the reason he was suddenly too hot on the weather.

Ah, yes. That new development Logan refused to think about too hard.

He was happy with Finn. They’d been happy together for years now.

So why was he crushing on Leo like he did with Finn back in college?

Logan wasn’t blind – he knew the signs well enough after pining for Finn for five years. He just didn’t know what to do with these feelings. And they’d learned from all the miscommunication and wasted time in college – he and Finn told each other everything now.

He just wasn’t sure he could tell Finn this.

How would that conversation go? Hey I know we’ve been happily together for three years now but I also kind of want to kiss that tall blond guy who’s been teaching us how to cook.

Yeah. That would go over well.

“Today we’re going to be testing your creativity by having you make your own burgers! We’ll both give you examples, but you’ll need to come up with your own original ideas for this challenge.” Leo stated, dumping ground beef into a bowl. “I’m going to make a jaeger schnitzel burger. So for the meat I’m using a mixture of different meats. Schnitzel is traditionally pork or veal, but you need the right ratio of lean meat to fatty meat to make a good burger, so I’m adding some additional fatty beef.” He formed patties out of the meat and placed them on the grill. “What really sets jaeger schnitzel from regular schnitzel is the mushroom gravy on top.”

He smiled, which Logan was quickly realizing was completely unfair. “Creating a gravy is a little hard on a grill, but I’ll do my best. Basically we’re going to melt butter in a pan and fry these onions until they begin to brown. Then add the garlic and cook it for another minute. Add the mushrooms and cook until they’re golden and some of the liquid from the mushrooms has evaporated.”

Leo switched back to his burgers and flipped them before returning to his sauce. “To thicken this into a gravy. We’re going to add flour and stir. Then it’s just beef broth, vinegar, thyme, sugar, salt, and pepper. Now the burgers are done, so we’re going to take all of this off the grill and plate it, making sure there’s plenty of gravy on this burger.”

“And I’m going to make a burrito burger.” Dorcas took over. “First we’re going to take our meat and add some seasoning to it: chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, crushed red pepper flakes, dried oregano, paprika, ground cumin, sea salt, and black pepper. Make sure to get the seasoning mixed in there thoroughly. Then we just throw these patties on the grill and let them cook. What really sets this burger apart are the toppings.”

She reached into a bag on her table and pulled out refried beans, salsa, pepper jack cheese, and lettuce. “I made the refried beans and salsa from scratch last night since we definitely don’t have time for that today. So once these burgers are cooked, we just add the toppings and we’re done. Easy enough, right?”

“This challenge is a blind taste test so that we can’t pick favorites.” Leo added. “Which means you guys are going to be on your own for this challenge – we can’t help you in this round.”

Everyone groaned.

“Just don’t burn yourselves and you’ll be fine. You have forty-five minutes and your time starts now!”

***

Mid-Episode Interview:

*Logan takes his hat off to run a hand through his hair with a sigh*

Logan: I… I might be going home today. *laughs* You know, I hate cooking. The only reason I went on this show was because of Finn. He seemed so excited about it, you know? So for the past seven weeks, I figured if I got eliminated I’d just stay in the city and spend time with him when they weren’t shooting the show. I haven’t really cared if I got eliminated or not. Now, though?

*His gaze loses focus for a few seconds, then he looks back at the camera*

Logan: I don’t think I’m ready to leave just yet.

***

Finn quickly glanced over at Logan as he dropped lamb chops into a hot pan. The brunet had come in second to last place in the earlier competition today and clearly wasn’t happy about it. There wasn’t much he could do right now, but he’d find something to cheer him up with after they were done filming for the day. Alex was in the city visiting their family – maybe the two of them could stop by the house and say hi, if it wasn’t too late.

“Non-stick pan, Lo!” He hissed as Logan grabbed a regular pan to put his potato cake in.

“What?”

“Use a non-stick pan. That way it won’t stick when you flip the cake over.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“How’s it going over here?”

Finn glanced up to see Leo at their shared station. “Good! I think. The lamb chops were a little hard to cut and my tapenade is kind of a mess, but I’m hoping it tastes ok.”

“And the potato cake?”

“The fact that I’m going to be flipping a potato cake is hilarious because I am not graceful at all.”

Leo laughed. “It’s not too bad, you’ll see. Logan, how about you?”

“Well, I’ve learned that I hate the taste of fennel.” Logan groused, sprinkling red pepper flakes on top of his fennel salad. “So I’m hoping to mask that flavor as much as I can.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone. Your chopping skills have really improved over the past couple of weeks, though – look at those potatoes!”

Logan looked up and smiled.

A smile Finn definitely recognized from college.

He glanced back and forth between the two, speculating. Maybe it wasn’t just Finn dealing with new feelings he wasn’t sure how to process yet.

After time ran out Finn glanced down at his two identical dishes – one for him, one for Leo – with a sigh of relief. It was still a little messy, but overall he felt pretty good about it. No matter what he was miles ahead of where he started, so he was happy with himself. He was still a little worried to be tasting his own dish, though. At the end of the day he was still a bad cook, after all.

When it was finally his turn to be judged, he grabbed both plates and placed them on the table before taking a seat opposite Leo.

“This feels like a really weird first date.” Finn teased, watching the faintest hint of a blush spread across Leo’s cheeks.

Oh my god, he’s adorable.

“I can definitely see some inconsistency in the cooking of your lamb chops.” He hurried to say, flipping one of the pieces of meat over for Finn to look at. “See, this one’s nice and brown while this one is undercooked. This boils down to variation of size in your meat. When you’ve got all kinds of different sizes, it’s hard to consistently cook them.” He cut up a piece of lamb and put it in his mouth. Finn probably stared at said mouth a bit too long before following suit.

“Well? What do you think?”

Finn shrugged, swallowing his bite. “I like it.”

Leo smiled. “You know what? Me too.”

***

Logan was up next. He sat down hesitantly across from Leo, looking down at his plate and hoping it was enough to save him from elimination.

“Your presentation is really good, Logan. The potatoes are nice and golden, the lamb looks perfect.” Leo said, and something about his words and calm demeanor soothed Logan instantly. He smiled. “Thanks, chef.”

“Ready to try this?”

“Let’s do it.” Logan stabbed his food with his fork, took a bite –

And instantly coughed.

It was so spicy. The kind of spicy that makes your throat close up and tears come to your eyes.

“Oh my god.” He gasped, making a mad dive towards his glass of water and downing it as fast as he could. “Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.”

Leo hummed, setting his fork down. He seemed completely unfazed. “Too much red pepper. You said earlier you were trying to mask fennel flavor, but I think you did too good a job at that.” He watched Logan with a small smile and pushed his own full glass of water towards him. “You ok?”

Logan gaped at him, but gladly accepted the water. “How are you not dying right now?”

“I literally have a show about cajun cooking; I’m used to spice. You should try ghost peppers sometime.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” Leo looked back down at his plate. “Overall, your dish was pretty good. Could’ve used a little less red pepper, but the rest of it was spot on.”

Logan felt his shoulders relax a little. “Thanks, chef.”

***

Logan was in the bottom two.

Fuck.

Finn’s heart had continued to drop as name after name of the safe contestants got announced, including his own, and Logan’s didn’t. He knew Logan didn’t really care if he got eliminated or not, but this had been so much fun to do with him. Finn didn’t want to see him go yet.

“And the recruit who will be leaving us today is…”

Finn honestly couldn’t name the person who got eliminated – all he knew was that Logan was staying. He let his tense shoulders relax and stepped forward to give him a hug. “That was close, Lo.”

“Yeah,” Logan’s voice was muffled in Finn’s shirt. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next week.”

Finn leaned back with a big smile on his face. “You wanna stay?”

“I mean, I’m a really bad cook,” Logan shrugged. “But I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Logan?” Both boys turned at the voice. Leo stood off to the side, looking slightly awkward.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to talk to you about today’s challenges and ways to improve. I’ve got a few tips I can share, if you want.” He glanced at Finn. “Can I steal him for a second?”

“Go right ahead.”

Leo flashed him a smile before motioning for Logan to follow him.

Finn couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could read Logan’s body language like a book. When he fiddled with his hat, Finn knew he was nervous. When he met Leo’s eyes and didn’t look away as he spoke, he was serious about whatever he was saying. When his gaze flicked down to Leo’s lips, he wanted to kiss him. When he subconsciously leaned forwards and tilted his head up slightly, he was going to kiss him.

The strangest thing was… Finn wasn’t jealous. He should be, shouldn’t he?

But Logan didn’t kiss Leo.

He seemed to catch himself at the last second and he drew back sharply, refusing to look at Leo again. He muttered something and turned to walk away, catching Finn’s gaze as he did so. His eyes widened guiltily, steps slowing as he crossed the room to where Finn was waiting.

Finn gave him a small smile and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“I think we need to talk.”

#lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

144 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 25 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

willow-salix · 4 years

Text

Isolation update, loosely titled "John and Selene parenting Alan".

Day 87 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“I’m starving.”

“How nice for you,” Scott commented.

“You know where the kitchen is,” John added.

“Yeah, go make yourself a sandwich or something,” Virgil suggested.

“Make a sandwich?”

“Yes, a sandwich, you know, two slices of bread, filling in the middle, it’s hardly an alien concept,” Gordon laughed. “Make me one too while you’re at it.”

“Make it myself?”

“It’s not that hard, Allie. You need to learn to fend for yourself sometime,” Virgil told him patiently.

Alan went quiet then sneakily took out his phone.

“I swear, if you text her to get her to make you a sandwich, I’ll get EOS to wipe all your saved game data,” John warned him not looking up from whatever he was working on on his tablet, his uncanny ability to see everything still working on earth without Five.

“Like I was going to do that,” Alan huffed, but he did slip his phone back into his pocket. “I can make my own food if I want to.”

“Sure you can,” Gordon’s tone said he’d be more inclined to believe that they had Nessie living in the cove.

“I can and I’ll prove it,” he declared, stomping down to the kitchen.

I walked in about five minutes after this conversation and flopped down on the nearest couch, it didn't matter that Gordon was already there, I just sat on him.

“What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“Alan is apparently capable of making food for himself,” Scott told me. "He's proving it to us right now."

“Seriously? You guys let him go into the kitchen by himself?”

“He’s old enough to make a sandwich,” John pointed out.

“It’s also Alan,” I argued. “I’m gonna keep an eye on him and make sure he doesnt hurt himself in there.”

“Don’t help him, I know you and so does he. You’ll watch for no more than two minutes before he does something stupid, likely on purpose because he knows that you’ll take over and do it for him,” Scott warned me.

“I’m not going to help, I’m going to supervise.”

They all gave me that look that said they didn't believe me. Honestly, I didn’t believe myself either.

“OK, I might help him but just a tiny bit.”

“No, I'm being serious, he needs to learn to fend for himself a little, he can’t rely on us forever,” Scott insisted. “Don’t help him. Keep an eye on him if that will make you feel better, but you have to sit on a stool and stay there.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dude, did you just tell me what to do?”

“Run...away…” Virgil hissed under his breath.

Scott took his advice and took off, yelling something about hearing Grandma calling.

“Wimp,” I muttered.

Gordon sniggered.

“He’s right though, you need to let Alan do things for himself,” John said.

“You’re not stupid enough to give me an order, are you?”

“No, I’m telling you the truth and asking you to be sensible.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Want me to come with you?” he sighed. I nodded, I was going to need back up, I could feel it in my bones.

By the time we got to the kitchen Alan had already started and by this I mean he had dragged out a number of bowls and was standing in the pantry staring at the shelves.

He poked his head out as we entered and looked visibly relieved.

“She’s not helping you,” John told him. Alan slumped.

“We’re supervising to make sure you don’t kill yourself,” I told him, taking a seat at the table.

“I don’t need supervision, I’m perfectly capable of making pasta without help.”

“Of course you are, forget that we’re even here, we’ll just chill over here with a cup of coffee,” I assured him.

“I’ve got a recipe,” he informed us.

“That’s good,” John nodded, "recipes are there to help."

“Cornflakes will work as breadcrumbs, right? They’re basically the same thing.”

“I-”

John interrupted me with a gentle nudge of his elbow.

“Whatever you think, Allie.”

“I need gloves, cooking can get messy!”

As we watched he dug around in the first aid kit we kept in the cupboard because…boys and a kitchen, and pulled out a pair of gloves. Examination gloves. Whatever.

“You gotta cook the pasta first, right?”

We stayed silent, John reading something on his tablet which I was pretending to look at too but really I was watching the baby drag a massive bag of pasta out of the pantry and proceed to pour it into a bowl.

“Pasta cooks in water,” he reminded himself, turning on the tap and filling the bowl with water. He glanced from the stove to the microwave and back again.

“Please don’t let him put the bowl on the stove, please don’t let him put the-” I chanted under my breath, breathing a sigh of relief when he shoved the bowl in the microwave. Maybe he did have a little common sense, maybe they were right and he could do this by himself. Had I been enabling and babying him too much? Not that the others could talk considering I had to look after all of them just as much.

“About eight minutes should do it,” he said confidently. “I know Virgil did that with that other pasta, you know, the one that looks like a...blob. A squiggly blob. This isn’t blob pasta but it should work the same.”

I glanced at John who shrugged. He had no idea what blob pasta was either.

Alan stood and watched the bowl going round in the microwave for a few minutes with such concentration that I wondered if he’d hypnotised himself. I nudged John who looked over, but upon finding no blood on his brother, shrugged and looked away again.

“Oh, I forgot the aluminium foil,” Alan located the tin foil in the fifth place he looked, the freezer for some bizarre reason I wasn't about to try and figure out, and ripped off a large square.

With some difficulty he constructed something that looked like a very thick, very lumpy tin foil bowl with a flappy lid.

He rummaged in the pantry again and emerged with a jar of sauce, red so I'm assuming something tomatoey, and glanced at the label.

“No added sugar? Is this sauce broken? Everything needs sugar. I’d better add some, just to be on the safe side.”

“John,” I whispered, nudging him again.

“Just leave him, he’s fine.”

“Then you can deal with him when he’s bouncing around the house at 3 am on a sugar rush,” I sniffed.

John looked as if he wanted to deal by leaving the planet…again.

I watched as Alan liberally sprinkled sugar in a thick layer on the bottom of the tin foil bed.

“Needs cheese,” he decided and went to the fridge. Did he get the nice edam, the cheddar or the parmesan? No. He selected three packages of plastic, pre sliced burger cheese and some of Gordon’s squirty nightmare and brought it back to the counter.

He unwrapped all three packs of cheese and began to layer the slices on top of the sugar in his homemade bowl.

“More sugar I think, it looks like it really needs a sugar crust.”

He reached for the sugar again and noticed his cornflakes for the first time.

“My breadcrumbs!”

He selected a spatula and proceed to lift up the entire cheesy, sugary mess and, holding that in one hand, opened the box (I say opened, but read ‘rips open the box with his teeth, spilling them everywhere as the sides give way’) and crumbles a thick layer onto the tin foil with his hand. Handful, crush in fist, dump onto foil, repeat.

Eventually he appeared satisfied with this and slid the sugar/cheese pile back on top of the cornflakes.

“Perfect. Now, sauce.”

If I had thought he would do the sensible thing and mix the sauce into the pasta, I obviously didn’t know Alan, because being sensible when cooking is not in his genes. He opened the jar (with much difficulty and a very quiet swear word that he thought we didn’t hear) and dumped its entire contents into the bowl.

“Awesome, look at me, I’m cooking!” he beamed proudly at his food monster.

“Yeah you are,” I agreed as cheerily as I could force out between gritted teeth.

“Deep breaths, love,” John whispered.

“You’ve said that before and it didn’t help then either,” I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes it did, I can think of at least three times when that was very good advice.”

“Well I wasn’t thinking of those times, I was thinking of times that involved your brothers.”

“Oh, then no, but anything is worth trying.”

“Noted.”

The microwave dinged and Alan popped it open, grabbing the bowl.

“OWW!”

I was halfway out of my seat when John caught my arm and pulled me back down.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” he threatened.

I sighed and sat back down again.

Alan glared at the bowl like it had betrayed him, offended his ancestors and told him that the Cavern Quest servers were down.

He sighed heavily and poked at the pasta with a knife, a very sharp knife that I didn't believe he was mature enough to be holding.

"He knows how to use lasers to cut through metal, he can handle a knife," John reminded me.

"Only because you guys are stupid enough to give them to him," I argued.

"I’ve no idea if it’s cooked or not.”

Obviously deciding to risk it he picked up a large spoon which at least had draining holes and proceeded to ladle the pasta out in big, dripping spoonfuls (rather than using a colander like a sane person to drain the entire thing in one go) and dumped it one by one on top of the sauce.He didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

He sighed again, poking at the cheese. “There’s like, not even a five percent chance that this is going to work, is there? No chance at all. Absolutely none.”

He looked so defeated that I just wanted to hug him.

“Be strong, you can do this, he has to learn on his own some time,” John patted my hand encouragingly. I laced my fingers with his and held on tight for dear life, needing his strength and support more than I had ever done in my life before.

“More cheese will help, cheese fixes everything.” He grabbed the can and squirted the entire thing, slowly but surely, with many disgusting noises, on top of the pasta. He then sprinkled more sugar on “for luck” and added another layer of cheese slices.

“They do garlic bread with pasta don’t they?” he asked himself. Obviously deciding that yes, they did, he found a bread roll in the cupboard and hollowed out the middle.

Curious as to just what the heck he was trying to do, I peeked over John’s tablet, watching him like a hawk.

He scooped out four big spoonfuls of butter and dumped them in a small bowl, then squeezed out half a tube of garlic paste, mixed them together vigorously and then spooned the mess into the center of the roll.

At a loss as to what to do with his garlic bread bomb he popped it on top of his creation and stared at it for a moment or two.

“Oh! It needs to be toasted!”

He reached for the chef’s blow torch that lived beside the stove.

“Al-” I began but was silenced by John’s hand over my mouth.

“He has a rocket, he can handle a little fire.”

“Gahhh!” Alan waved his hand frantically, trying to put out the flame where he’d set fire to his glove. “Oww!” he yelled as said glove melted and welded itself to his palm.

I looked at John, both eyebrows raised communicating perfectly well, without words, the fact that I had told him so.

John dropped his head into his hands, muttering about idiot brothers.

Undeterred Alan artfully charred (burnt) the top of the bread roll and then began wrapping up his tin foil parcel, squeezing it, compacting it down small, and then added more foil.

“Can you put foil in the oven?” he asked us.

“Yes, you can,” John answered for me, knowing I wouldn't stick to just one bit of helpful information. “But you can never, ever, put metal in the microwave.”

“Ah, yeah, cool cool, I knew that, I was just testing you.”

“Sure you were,” John patted my knee again, reassuring me that everything was fine.

Alan picked up his aluminum foil wrapped parcel, holding it like a baby and looked around for the oven. Now, this is a big house, with a lot of people to cook for, so we have a lot of options here.

Unfortunately he selected the wrong one.

“1000 watts, that’ll do it.”

“No, Allie, that’s-”

He slammed the door shut and pushed the button.

Ping! Ting! Little sparks of lightning erupted in what was actually another microwave, not an oven at all.

Another spark, this time erupting from the microwave itself, not inside it, firing off towards us.

Alan ducked like someone had opened fire from outside, crouched on the floor, giggling nervously as the scary electrical box continued to conjure up random sounds and flickering lights.

Smoke was rising and, finally sensing that full disaster was imminent (good danger spotting skills there, babe, wouldn’t think that disasters were your job) John yanked me off the stool and pushed me under the table just as the microwave let out one last, long, loud, kitchen rumbling bang and went dark, smoke puffing out of it like a dejected steam train.

I picked myself up off the floor, using a hand on John’s head to steady myself and surveyed the destruction.

John did the same, staring at the bent door of the microwave in utter disbelief.

I opened my mouth but he hushed me with a finger on my lips, his eyes closed, praying for strength.

“No, don’t say a word.”

“Woah,” Alan coughed, flapping his hand at the offending smoke as he got to his feet, glancing at the remains of the thing that had turned out not to be an oven after all. “I think I’ll have to leave that alone for now. Any chance we can get Virg to pick up some take out?”

(This was inspired by a post my kid read out to me from a GQ interview with Robert Pattinson, I just adore that chaotic idiot. You can read it here.)

#alan tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds in isolation

21 notes · View notes

junker-town · 4 years

Text

A Thanksgiving sides draft, because we are a sports website

Photo by: Anjelika Gretskaia/REDA&CO/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

2 sides, 1 dessert, 1 drink. Whose Thanksgiving reigns supreme?

Thanksgiving dinner has never been about turkey.

The focal point of the biggest meal of the holiday season can be brined, roasted, or fried, but it will never escape its fate as lean, bland bird meat. On its own, it’s more of a lowkey punishment than the centerpiece of a celebration.

That’s why we have side dishes. The heart of Thanksgiving is the supporting cast that soaks across your plate and imparts a little extra flavor to the day’s starring attraction. Good sides are a meal on their own, reduced to complementary status in the name of an hour-long gorging. They even get their own stewards thanks to the presence of desserts and beverages tasked with cleaning the whole mess up.

Put all that together, and you’ve got one hell of a meal. And, for the dads of the nation, a prelude to the greatest recliner nap they’ll take all year.

In the interest of celebrating the one celebration of America that doesn’t involve hot dogs, we turned the perfect Thanksgiving meal into a competition. Five SB Nation writers joined forced to draft their ideal meals. The ground rules:

everyone starts with turkey and gravy

everyone drafts two sides, one dessert, and one beverage (adult or otherwise)

sides must be fundamentally different from one another to be considered a viable alternative to an already-picked food (i.e. sausage and herb stuffing vs. Stove-Top is good to go, but pumpkin pie vs. pumpkin pie with whipped cream is not).

Our four-round draft was a randomly-assigned snake draft, and our managers could pick sides, dessert, or beverage in any round of their choice. These are the results:

1. Stuffing — Louis Bien

Easily the MVP of every Thanksgiving dinner. Stuffing stands up well on its own, but it pairs with everything else beautifully, too. Stuffing complements everything around it, and everything complements stuffing. It just tastes like Thanksgiving. And it saves amazingly well for next-day sandwiches. Some people like to add sausage to their stuffing, but that’s one job too many for what is essentially the do-it-all point guard of any feast. Let stuffing be the giver that it is.

Christian D’Andrea: Cool man. You took breadcrumbs cooked inside a bird anus No. 1 overall.

Alex McDaniel: If Stove Top is No. 1, let’s give up now.

2. Mashed potatoes — Christian D’Andrea

An easy choice. Mashed potatoes are the glue that you dip your turkey in so that other, better foods (stuffing, cranberry sauce, corn, etc) will stick to the bird and thus make it taste like something. It’s also instrumental in the post-meal leftover sandwich, which is easily the best part of Thanksgiving (old man naps while seating completely upright aside).

Fooch: I’d like to continue shit-talking Louis on this one. Forget stuffing — mashed potatoes is the go-to side. Mashed potatoes is the Orlando Pace of this draft. The offensive tackle prospect that you know will turn into a Hall of Famer. It’s not a sexy pick, but like Christian said (when he wasn’t trashing my old man choices), it’s the glue of the Thanksgiving meal.

Louis: Boxed fake mashed potatoes >>>>>>> real mashed potatoes. I will take no more questions at this time.

3. Cranberry sauce (Ocean Spray) — David Fucillo

I’ve learned to enjoy fancy cranberry sauce, but nothing tops the gelatin version! Some will mock me for my distaste of gravy, but this actually serves as my choice of gravy. I combine all my sides together with the turkey, and the cranberry sauce is what keeps it from turning into a lumpy mess.

Louis: This is high for cranberry sauce, but I get that people really love it, and I like the gelatin version over the Real Stuff, too. But I will NOT abide this gravy slander, sir.

4. Cornbread dressing — Alex McDaniel

Aside from being the Thanksgiving dish most likely to start a family fight over the right way to make it, cornbread dressing is the quintessential side-that-could-also-be-a-meal holiday food. (It’s also way better than stuffing in that we don’t shove dressing up a bird’s ass.)

Louis: Y’all know you don’t have to cook stuffing in the turkey’s butt, right?

5. Pumpkin pie — Eric Stephen

In theory I probably should have picked a side dish here, but since I had two picks back-to-back I wanted to give the Thanksgiving dessert its proper due as a first-round pick. Pumpkin pie is not something that should be eaten year round, but it is a Thanksgiving staple. There was no way this was lasting until the end of the third round, so I had to make sure to grab my dessert — the dessert — right away.

Fooch: Every draft requires someone forgetting that a selection already happened. I was psyched to take pumpkin pie in the third round, only to realize I missed Eric taking it with the fifth overall pick. Pumpkin pie with whipped cream is what Thanksgiving is all about. I probably should have taken it over cranberry sauce, but such is life.

6. Green bean casserole — Eric Stephen

I have to be honest here: for the overwhelming bulk of my Thanksgiving dinners, I’ve had fairly standard green beans, maybe spruced up with bacon here and there. But green bean casserole is the ultimate comfort food, and perhaps more importantly it’s one of the easiest sides to make — green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and fried onions — which is important for those of us who aren’t hosting but rather bringing something to the table.

Christian: Easily the worst kind of bean. I appreciate the casserole’s commitment to making a healthy food so capable of bringing on a stroke.

Louis: Is there any part of green bean casserole that actually tastes good other than the French’s fried onions sprinkled on top?

Fooch: The fact that Christian shit-talked my Brussels sprouts the way he did and doesn’t offer nearly enough hate for green bean casserole is just unacceptable.

7. Sweet potato casserole — Alex McDaniel

I’m not sure why I didn’t make this my first pick because it’s undeniably the most on-brand example of Thanksgiving indulgence in existence. How do you make sweet potatoes, a naturally tasty and good-for-you food, more appealing? Mix them with a shitload of butter and brown sugar and eggs and vanilla before topping them off with marshmallows and EVEN MORE butter and brown sugar. Plus, it’s the only dish other than boring-ass cranberry sauce that counts as a side AND a dessert.

Christian: A dessert as a side dish? You really are from the South.

8. Brussels sprouts (with balsamic glaze) — David Fucillo

A vegetable I would never eat as a kid I have grown to love as an adult. I’d be fine with just a basic sprout dish cooked with some salt, pepper and garlic. In reality, a balsamic glaze and potentially some bacon takes this side to a whole other level.

Christian: Of course the guy who picked candy corn and raisins at Halloween wants Brussels sprouts, the villain food from every Nicktoon from 1992-1998. Enjoy your tiny cabbages, old man.

9. Sausage and herb stuffing — Christian D’Andrea

How do you improve on stuffing? Add a bunch of pig fat to it. This is effectively a breakfast sandwich, blended down into spoonable form. I love every word in that sentence, so that’s an easy pick for me.

Louis: Talks shit about stuffing then takes the frozen Jimmy Dean’s version of it eight picks later. OK.

10. Spiced peaches — Louis Bien

It was slim pickings for sides at this point of the draft outside of [Insert vegetable] and [Insert starch]. But spiced peaches are a nice curveball on the plate — sweet and tart and delicious. Who cares that they don’t actually go with anything.

Alex McDaniel: It’s hard for me to talk shit about such a delightfully Southern dish, but I’m guessing spiced peaches in Wisconsin just means throwing some cinnamon on a Del Monte fruit cup and calling it a day.

11. Rye old fashioned — Louis Bien

A simple, noble, delicious cocktail that tastes like the embodiment of crackling fireplaces, cozy sweaters and fucking off from work.

Christian: You went to the University of Wisconsin and chose rye over brandy for your old fashioneds. The city of Madison will judge you for this. Harshly and drunkenly, as is tradition.

Louis: Do I get to rebut in the comment section? Listen, I hear you, but brandy hurts, man.

12. Cheesecake — Christian D’Andrea

A top five dessert after any meal. Can be topped with literally any fruit in order to make it healthy.

“Healthy.”

Louis: Yes, that’s exactly what I want after my 20-pound meal, a sugar bomb with the density of a red dwarf.

13. Roasted potatoes — David Fucillo

Gotta have a starch and I couldn’t justify scalloped potatoes. Mashed potatoes are the easy choice, but a quality toasted potato can bring a little something extra.

Christian: How difficult was it for you to pass up “rolls” or “water” here?

Louis: “Mmm, pass the filler please.”

Eric: This is a great side, but missing only one step: mashing the potatoes.

14. Hot bourbon cider — Alex McDaniel

Adding bourbon to apple cider is a) delicious and b) more socially acceptable than drinking straight whiskey from a Solo cup at the Thanksgiving table. Or so I’ve heard.

Christian: The only thing I don’t like about this pick is your Solo cup bias. Next you’re going to tell me everyone sits on chairs that don’t fold up at your house and the kids’ section isn’t just a three-legged card table.

15. Mac n’ cheese — Eric Stephen

The gamble in picking my dessert first meant that most of the good sides would be snatched up by this time of the draft. But what could be better to add to Thanksgiving than one of the best side dishes for any meal? Mac n’ cheese is delicious whether out of a box or made from scratch, and for an extra touch maybe through some bacon in there since I didn’t get to add them to my green beans above.

Louis: I am probably very, very alone in this, but I love mac n’ cheese in pretty much every context except Thanksgiving. Here’s a sumptuous banquet of Earth’s bounty, and also cheddar noodles.

16. Boring-ass regular cider — Eric Stephen

I suppose I could have just picked a beer, or even tequila here (man, that would hit the spot right now), I picked a beverage I have in my kitchen at this very moment. Yes it’s relatively plain, and non-alcoholic, but the spicy warm beverage is just perfect for the holidays, and hit the spot.

Christian: Warm Dr. Pepper was RIGHT THERE.

17. Salted caramel pie — Alex McDaniel

Listen. If you eat a bunch of rich and/or sweet stuff at dinner, maybe DON’T make this your dessert choice. Eat some Jell-O and go lie down. But if you kept things dry and boring, salted caramel pie is the dessert you DESERVE, not to mention a hell of a lot more creative than standard, boring, embarrassingly un-salted pies.

Christian: Is the recipe for this just “salt, sugar, butter, milk” and then a shrug emoji?

18. Hot buttered rum — David Fucillo

I’m not a big holiday drinker, but this just seems like a quality option during a cold, winter evening. Why get complicated?

Christian: OLD. MAN. PICK. Fooch drafted himself a Thanksgiving meal he read about once in a Dickens novel.

19. Porters/brown ales (like say, Tyranena’s Rocky’s Revenge?) — Christian D’Andrea

A good warming beer to ease in the oncoming winter. Nothing sets up the 4 p.m. hibernation break quite like a couple beers to wash down the week’s worth of carbohydrates you just ate.

(Tyranena, please send me stuff.)

Fooch: I love a good porter or brown ale, but I can’t even begin to imagine trying to drink this during or right after a huge Thanksgiving meal. I’m a glutton when it comes to this meal, but this would knock me on my ass before I even finished eating. I at least like to make it back to the television and pass out while watching football.

20. Ritz cracker pie — Louis Bien

I think this goes by mock apple pie in some circles, but we usually make this with pecans and/or walnuts in the mix, too. Ritz cracker pie is light and fluffy and sweet and perfect after over-gorging on everything else. I almost always end up having some for breakfast the next day.

Christian: I ... have no idea what this is?

(Ritz, please send Louis stuff.)

Our final results:

So who won our inaugural Thanksgiving sides draft? Throw your vote in below. The winner will earn a smidge of pride. The loser will be mocked relentlessly for having terrible taste.

If you can’t see the poll, click here.

0 notes

allofbeercom · 6 years

Text

A foodie tour of South Korea

With the Winter Olympics shining a spotlight on this hi-tech country, a new culinary trip introduces visitors to zingy rice dishes and the worlds best bibimbap all with a pleasingly messy disregard for formality

A foodie tour of South Korea

South Korea holidays

A foodie tour of South Korea

With the Winter Olympics shining a spotlight on this hi-tech country, a new culinary trip introduces visitors to zingy rice dishes and the world’s best bibimbap – all with a pleasingly messy disregard for formality

Liz Boulter

Fri 9 Feb 2018 01.30 EST

Share on Facebook

Share on Twitter

Share via Email

View more sharing options

Share on LinkedIn

Share on Pinterest

Share on Google+

Share on WhatsApp

Share on Messenger

Korean comfort … bibimbap is the national dish of rice with a multitude of toppings.

I’m not particularly hungover, having stuck to local Hite beer the evening before, but the restorative effects of Korean haejang-guk, or “hangover soup” would probably cure even the pain of a truly big night out.

At 8am there’s already a queue outside the tiny cafe at the back of Nambu market in provincial capital Jeonju (has the whole city been on the lash?). I slip into a seat at the counter next to a local couple and watch an overalled woman bashing energetically at huge mounds of pungent garlic, chilli and spring onion – a cruel racket for a pounding head.

South Korea map

But soon my panacea appears: a heady beef bone and anchovy broth thick with rice and beansprouts, side dishes of kimchi and three other fermented vegetables, and squares of dried seaweed to dip in. Another dish holds a barely set poached egg. Copying my neighbours, I finish up by adding some broth to the egg, stir, and drink the lot down, following up with the (probably redundant) little plastic bottle of Yakult-type drink that comes with every serving.

The words “set you up for the day” don’t even begin to cover it.

Hangover soup counter, Jeonju. Photograph: Liz Boulter for the Guardian

Quick guide

South Korea: at a glance

Show Hide

– Capital: Seoul

– Currency: Won, £1=1,500

– Flight time from UK: 11 hours

– Flight time from US (Los Angeles): 13 hours 30 minutes

– Population: 51 million

– Area:100,210 km2

– Official language: Korean

– Official tourism website: visitkorea.or.kr

– High speed rail network: KTX

– Looking for more travel ideas? Guardian Travel on South Korea

Was this helpful?

Thank you for your feedback.

I’m two days into Intrepid Travel’s new Real Food Adventure in South Korea and starting to appreciate how this hi-tech country combines the best of east Asia, particularly in its cuisine: healthier and less oily than in much of China; spicier, sharper and chewier than in Japan.

Starting in the capital, Seoul, we’ve done the basics – Korean barbecue and moreish KFC (the K’s not for Kentucky) – then taken the train south (almost all the trip is on public transport) to foodie capital Jeonju, declared a Unesco city of gastronomy in 2012. Jeonju is known for its “slow food” skills: drying, pickling and fermenting kimchis, sauces and pastes to offer a world of exquisite textures and flavours. It’s only culinary rival was, before the Korean war, Pyongyang.

An irresistible dish of KFC (Korean fried chicken).

Jeonju is also home to the country’s best bibimbap, the national dish of rice with an array of toppings, often including a raw egg. As we’re lunching at the city’s Gajok Hoegwan restaurant, and its owner, Kim Nyeon-him, has been declared an intangible cultural asset by the government for her bibimbap, we’re probably going to eat the best bibimbap in the world.

“This is not your meal; these are just the accompaniments,” warns Daniel, our Korean-American tour leader. The tables are covered with at least a dozen cold side dishes: pungent fish innards, mild turmeric jelly and delicious fermented spring greens among them. Our bibimbaps arrive topped with a dozen more tasty things, plus a hot cloud of steamed egg soufflé. It looks very pretty, but we have to destroy it: the way to eat bibimbap is to add your side dishes, mix the whole lot up – with chopsticks so as not to mash the rice – then shovel it in with a spoon.

Mrs Kim is an “intangible cultural asset” thanks to her bibimbap. Photograph: Liz Boulter for the Guardian

The taste sensation is partly down to the array of tall earthenware jars where Mrs Kim, sprightly in her seventies, is fermenting sauces of gooseberry, green plum and other fruits. Daniel tells us bibimbap is comfort food: in Korean films the equivalent of the breakup scene where a girl eats a whole tub of ice-cream is a girl crying into a big bowl of bibimbap.

Korean food is all about side dishes, or banchan

By now our group of 12 Europeans and Australians are starting to “get” Korean food. It’s all about the side dishes, or banchan: no meal comes without at least two. For this we can thank the Buddhist vegetarian influence, which saw people brightening up meals with fresh, sour, crunchy, sweet, salty or spicy accompaniments. This continues even though many Koreans have since embraced meat and fish with gusto.

We’ve also rethought our western ideas about courses. Everything comes together: there’s nearly always a soup with a Korean dinner, but it’s sipped throughout the meal, and any sweet things are on the table from the start. Koreans say this makes an evening more fun: you get on with talking, laughing, enjoying the company, without interruptions for another course arriving. There’s also none of Japan’s dining formality. “The protocol is there is no protocol,” says Daniel. It’s fine to all dip spoons into one pot, or reach across your companions to grab a tasty morsel with your long metal chopsticks. A table barely visible under a mess of dirty dishes and empty bottles is the sign of a good night out.

Gochujang ferments in a jar for months. Photograph: Liz Boulter for the Guardian

The savoury spiciness of bibimbap comes from gochujang, the fermented chilli paste found in every Korean kitchen. The home of that is nearby Sunchang, where, with the help of another intangible cultural asset, Kang Soon-ok, we learn how “red gold” is made – by mixing powdered rice, barley syrup, soya and dried chillies before leaving it to ferment for half a year.

We also have great fun making a speciality none of us can quite get our heads round: chapssaltteok, or soft rice cakes (like Japanese mochi). Their sticky, gooey texture is achieved, traditionally, by pounding the rice flour dough with huge mallets, before rolling, chopping and sprinkling it with ground nuts. We’ve loved almost everything we’ve eaten so far, but decide you probably have to be born to it to rave about this texture, between Blu Tack and wallpaper paste, but less appealing than either.

Much more enticing is the quintessential Korean dish kimchi, which we also have a go at in Jeonju. There are kimchi factories these days of course, but many people still make it by hand in autumn, to ferment in jars buried in the cold ground for winter eating.

Hanok village, on the edge of Jeonju. Photograph: Seungchan Lee/Getty Images

In a sunny courtyard in the traditional Hanok village district, on the edge of Jeonju, the napa cabbages (what we call Chinese leaves) have been soaking in brine. Pulling on gloves and pinnies (against red stains) we copy our hosts and gently peel back the pale leaves – without detaching them from the stems – and massage each side with a paste made by pounding garlic, shallot and ginger with copious gochujang. Once every surface of every leaf is covered – inexpert tourist fingers are fumbling and slow – the leaves are folded back till the finished cabbages lie like so many swaddled babies. I taste a bit of broken leaf and it’s delicious, but without that deep fermented flavour of aged kimchi.

There are many more delights packed into the week. The waters of Bomun lake make an especially pillowy soft tofu, served at Matdol Soondooboo restaurant in a punchy broth. You drop in a raw egg, add soy, sesame oil and spring onions, then enjoy the way creamy egg and tofu contrast with the soup’s chilli kick. Spicy beef short ribs on Daegu’s foodie Dongindong Street have been steamed for hours and come with fishy side dishes for an umami hit.

The fish market in Busan. Photograph: Alamy

And in the port of Busan, we barbecue seafood at the table. The US influence means South Koreans have a very un-Asian liking for dairy products: so you can add grated cheese to a giant clam grilling in its shell with onion, chilli and kimchi and, as the cheese starts to melt, gorge on a fusion feast.

But it isn’t all eating; there’s drinking too. The craft beer movement is starting to take off in South Korea: at microbrewery Galmegi in Busan we taste IPAs and a ginger golden ale. They’re a hit with young South Koreans used to rice wine, fizzy lager and soju spirit. For us, though, Hite beer and soju make perfect partners for games of “sink the ship” – the person who makes the shot glass of soju sink into the lager having to drink the lot. And if too many rounds of that make for a sore head next morning, there’s always hangover soup.

• The trip was provided by Intrepid Travel, whose eight-day South Korean Real Food Adventure costs £1,715, excluding flights to Seoul

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/a-foodie-tour-of-south-korea/

0 notes