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#'Here is Gooey. He is our son and a perfect angel'
desultory-novice · 11 months
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“Changing Times...”
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(I love all eras of Kirby, old and new. But the rush of tragic backstories must have been an adjustment for the animal friends.)
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tainted-wine · 4 years
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(Snapped a pic because I lost the darn ask)
Thank you, anon! She didn’t exactly forget in this case, but bear with me. This crack is basically a happier ending to Spring Bird Survival Guide. It was supposed to be a couple sentences long. I don’t know how it turned into nearly 3,000 words. I...I wrote a whole fic.
....Enjoy?
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(NSFW)
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“Why did you stop taking them?” He sounds more confused than you’ve ever heard him, the slight shake in his voice betraying his fear.
You didn’t mean for him to catch you in his bathroom, positive pregnancy test still in your hands. Your plan was to figure out when would be the appropriate time to tell him, assuming that he didn’t catch on to the constant nausea added to your pains. At least this saves you the trouble of keeping secrets.
“Because…the Commission can go fuck themselves.” You take his hand and place it right above your womb, hearing his breath hitch. “Let’s start a family, Keigo.”
Hawks knew that this was beyond stupid. It was stupid of you to put yourself in this position, it was stupid of him to even be considering this, and it was stupid of both of you to attempt such a thing behind the Commission’s back.
But his birdbrain didn’t care about any of that right now.
He pulls you in for a suffocating kiss. “My little hen is about to become a mother hen.” He takes you to bed and claims you out of pure joy.
—————————————
That buzzfood article was frankly right. Mutant bodies didn’t make any sense, and what they could do to other people’s bodies made no friggin sense either. As time passed, not only was his seed growing inside of you at an alarming rate, something felt off. These weren’t the kicks of a single fetus, it felt akin to a strange cluster of objects crammed into your womb, shifting about in a way that sometimes made you shudder.
You haven’t been able to see a doctor at all—Hawks wanted you to stay in his house at all times and away from the public’s eye—so there was no way to properly check, but it didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what was happening.
“You didn’t tell me that I’d lay eggs!”
“I didn’t know!” Hawks swears that he didn’t hatch out of an egg himself and had no way of predicting this.
The development of the eggs only took about a month. When it was time to birth them…
“I hate you! God, I hate you so fucking much for putting me through this!” You screamed in pure agony as tears streamed down your face, using every ounce of strength in your body to keep pushing.
Hawks was kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs lovingly as he watched his offspring’s vessels emerge from your stretched hole. “I’m sorry, baby. You can chew me out all you want later, alright? Just keep pushing. You’re doing great.” Oh fuck him. Fuck him and all of his comfort, making you do this on his own bed, without the security of doctors who actually know how to do this properly. Squeezing out three baby-sized eggs was like a temporary vacation in hell.
Once the eggs were all brought into the world, Hawks wrapped them up in blankets and placed them under a lamp. He knew that there were actual incubators for couples like the two of you, but he’d rather keep them cozy with his personal belongings instead of some lifeless factory-made device.
“I’m not farming chickens that I’ll eat later. These are our kids.”
You’ve been too exhausted to argue, having lost a frightening portion of your body weight. Hawks was having a little too much fun in gorging you, trying to hand-feed you meats of all kinds.
Another month goes by, and you think something must be wrong because those eggs shouldn’t be cracking already, right? But amazingly, you watch as gooey newborns flail about until they have fully broken out of their protective shells. Hawks sadly missed the hatching, but when he comes home and sees his three sons for the first time, he cries.
Somehow, you’re still surprised when they grow quickly. It was concerning. Is that healthy? Three more months pass, and all three of them have fully feathered wings. Hawks teaches them how to fly and use their quirks, and they learn with carefree laughs and smiles on their faces. Healthy or not, you’re going to do everything you can to keep these little fledglings happy.
—————————————
“Let’s have more.”
Your eyes nearly pop out. “More? Already?”
You both sit on the roof of the house, your three boys chasing each other across the starry sky. Both of you have to always remind them to stay quiet and within Mommy and Daddy’s sight when they play outside.
Hawks places his hand over yours. “They could use some more siblings, don’t you think? I’ve got more than enough to provide for them.”
It sounds stupid. Doing any of this was stupid, honestly, and you’re not looking forward to carrying more of his eggs. Yet, a simpler part of your mind wanted this, to take as many of his children as possible, and you decided to listen to it.
“Alright.”
—————————————
The Commission was destined to find out sooner or later, though you’re not sure how. You were eventually fired after your long absence that you refused to give them an explanation for. It’s possible that they still managed to spot your kids while they were outdoors, despite you and Hawks’s many precautions.
You were watching your new clutch of eggs—four of them this time—when the winged hero arrived, the features on his face pressed into a tranquil fury that made you shiver.
“He wanted to take them,” he said lowly through gritted teeth. “He wanted to take our kids and turn them into heroes. Into fucking weapons.”
You held him, feeling his anger ebb with your soothing rubs across his back, right between the base of his wings. “What do we do? We can’t hide from them. You can’t talk them out of anything. Oh god, Keigo, what do we do?” You felt completely helpless, knowing that you couldn’t stop them if they decided to take your little angels away.
Hawks looked to the pile of sleeping boys, having worn themselves out after a hyper game of tag that required you to keep a close eye to ensure they didn’t break anything. At just a little less than a year old, they could be mistaken for being around the age of ten. “They’re really skilled fliers already, aren’t they? Even have great control of their feathers.” He nodded to himself, lost in his own head. “Yeah...I’ll show them weapons.”
The sinister air around him was scaring you. “Keigo?”
His face returned to a cheerful smile as he planted a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, mother hen. I’ve got this under control.”
“But what about the deputy? He’s going to come for our kids!”
You felt his whole body shake from his deep chuckle. “No he’s not.”
And that’s when you noticed it. The dried specks of reddish-brown on his jacket, almost like a splatter. Blood.
“I killed him.”
—————————————
It won’t be long before the Commission goes after Hawks for killing one of their own, so he wasn’t going to give them time to plan.
You didn’t appreciate him taking the kids behind your back, and you had no idea what danger he was putting them in until you heard the news.
The Hero Public Safety Commission HQ had been attacked and overwhelmed.
—————————————
By the time your second clutch hatched, Hawks already had full control of what was once the HPSC. He gave you a tour through the remodeled building, your kids roaming the halls excitedly as if they didn’t just overthrow an entire organization. Some of the employees greeted you warmly, some gave forced smiles. One of them bowed respectfully with a twitchy grin.
“I’m happy to be a part of the Hawks Hero Force, ma’am. We are going to make great changes.”
You...didn’t know what to say to that.
You stuck to raising your kids while Hawks did whatever diabolical shit he was doing, but it was hard to ignore the growing tension in the city. He and his kids have been holding off opposing heroes for weeks, all of them trying and failing to bring down the rising power of the number two hero. You saw the debates on television. People were arguing whether the dissolution of the Commission was for Japan’s benefit and that Hawks should be supported, or question if Hawks should be trusted at all for disposing of the very people that got him where he is today. What was even his game plan?
You didn’t care much yourself. The only insight Hawks has given you was that he was setting up a city that would be safe for all of his children. Sounds good enough to you.
In just a few more months, your other four kids were eager to join their father’s cause. You and Hawks no longer mention the rapid growth of your offspring...and the short lifespans they likely possess. There was no point in letting those fears resurface.
You hug them all, telling them to visit Mommy on weekends and always keep their feathers clean and sharp for battle.
“Don’t worry, Mommy! We’re gonna teach those heroes not to defy Dad!”
—————————————
The part of the HQ building Hawks led you to was like a bizarre fusion of a love hotel room and a nursery. It was such a strange setup, that you almost forgot to question the young lady that has been following him around.
He gives her a few pats on the shoulder. “This here is Hina, one of my most loyal followers. She’s been on my side since the beginning.” Hina gives a polite smile and bows in your direction.
And then Hawks lays it all on you. How he wants kids at a quicker rate, and his female supporters would be perfect for this...you’re dumbstruck. Your belly was already swelling with his potent seed for the third time, and somehow that wasn’t enough?
“I promise you there’s nothing else to it. Isn’t that right, Hina?”
The woman stood tall and nodded. “I’m only here to help Hawks in his cause.”
Hawks gave her an approving smile before turning back to you. “And if you’re not convinced, just stick around. I welcome the audience.”
The suggestion catches you so off-guard that you agree to it. You take a seat on one of the beds (holy shit this was a goddamn breeding room) and watch him and Hina settle on one right next to you.
“All fours, missy.” Hina obeys his command and prepares herself on her hands and knees.
You watch. You watch Hawks rub her moistened folds while stroking himself until fully erect. You watch him slowly push in, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Hina. He stays at a moderate pace, holding her hips and gently rocking her with his thrusts. It’s…odd, watching the men you’ve had seven (so far) children with take another woman to bear more.
The girl that was a complete stranger to you was sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but that still wasn’t enough to hold back her moans. Still, it was hard to pay attention to her, because Hawks’s eyes were locked onto yours. Even as his breaths and movements quickened, even as Hina began to shake and collapse onto her elbows as she reached her climax, he never tore his gaze away from you. He finally did when his eyes shut tightly as he buried himself balls-deep into his dear follower, blessing her with several spurts of his sperm into her welcoming womb.
You couldn’t help but rub your own belly at the sight.
He unfolded the sheets and helped the dazed woman get settled into the bed. “You should get cleaned up later, but for now, just rest.” He said softly.
Hina mumbled nonsense, already half-asleep.
Hawks straightened himself out before walking over to you, excited to rub the stomach that cradled his chicks. “I’m gonna give you all the children you could ever want, baby. And remember,” he gave you a kiss of pure love and passion. “I’ll always only have eyes for you.”
You smiled and hugged him tightly. All of the children in the world…Keigo’s children. “Sounds perfect.”
“Soon, I’ll have all of these beds filled.”
—————————————
Hawks and his children have amazingly lowered Fukuoka’s crime rate by a significant amount. You never imagined living in such a peaceful time. You didn’t understand the interviews and articles, the ones that expressed fear and outrage over being attacked by winged individuals for doing anything that can be perceived as villainous. There were heroes still trying to destroy the Hawks Hero Force, creating alliances of their own to face this new dominating power. They were usually taken care of pretty quickly—all it takes is a flurry of sharp feathers from several pairs of wings to crush the foolish rebels.
You don’t understand why they resisted so much. All they had to do to avoid Hawks’s wrath was be a law-abiding citizen, and also not harm his kids. Oh yeah, anyone—hero or not—that made the mistake of injuring you and your man’s angels had this weird habit of…disappearing.
You had about fifty of them by now. Fifty winged beauties that keep the peace with proud and innocent smiles. Not all of them were yours—they had many mothers now—but you treated them all like your own.
One would expect Hawks to start losing track of his precious eyases, but he remembers every single one of them like they hatched yesterday. Each name…every voice…every face…he didn’t forget any of them, and loved them all equally. When they weren’t enforcing laws, they were cuddling and playing with their father or mothers.
You wandered through the incubation room, looking over the many nests that held your future. The mothers-in-the-making were resting in their beds next door, their bellies growing each day.
This is what paradise looked like.
—————————————
3 years later...
Buzzfood.com
(NOTICE: Buzzfood would like to remind citizens that next Saturday is Skewer Saturday of this month. Please be prepared to offer a chicken skewer to any descendants of Hawks that are currently residing in your neighborhood. If you need help searching for the best skewers to purchase in your area, take a look at our recommended restaurants here. Citizens that do not participate in Skewer Saturday will be taken in by the Hawks Hero Force and punished accordingly. Show your appreciation for our crime-free country!)
Great Hawks Celebrates His 1000th Child
By Yuki Burushito
Another great day in Fukuoka! But this day in particular just might be the greatest day yet! Why, you ask? Our beloved leader Hawks has brought his thousandth child into the world! A public ceremony was held to welcome this beautiful girl on this earth and, more importantly, this blessed country. Hawks and his wife were in tears, and I must say, seeing this vulnerability from such a powerful man moved me like nothing else. May your precious daughter one day join her brothers and sisters in the eternal battle of keeping the peace!
Speaking of peace, we must not forget that even though Japan is enjoying its best years in history, our peace is still being threatened every day. There are villain groups lurking in your city’s slimy cracks, plotting to destroy everything Hawks has worked so hard to create. They even have the audacity to call themselves heroes. We all know that the only heroes needed today are the noble winged ones that fight to keep us safe and comfortable. One group in particular insists on giving Hawks a hard time whenever they can: the One For All Alliance. The majority of the members in this gang are former students and teachers from the now-defunct U.A. High School. Their influence may be spreading, but our love and support for Hawks will always smother their poisonous lies!
We must do our part in ensuring that Japan retains its place as the World’s Paradise!
—————————————
You find him on the roof of his house, watching your three eldest boys fly freely as the orange dawn painted the city’s skyline. Only three years old, yet their bodies were strong and hardened, one of them sporting facial hair similar to their father’s.
He of course panics and scolds you when he spots you trying to climb with your bulging stomach. You only roll your eyes as he helps you up. You’ve gone through this reproductive process more than enough times to know your body’s limits.
“They wanted to reminisce for a while,” Hawks explains, back to watching the playful flights. “They make three years sound like it was ages ago. Then again…” His proud gleam twisted into something sadder, his mind entering that dark pit he tries so hard to avoid.
You cover one of his hands with yours. “No matter how long they have, we’re going to keep working to make sure they enjoy every minute of their life. You’ve given so much to all of your children. Be proud of how great of a father you are.”
The smile he gives is soft and warm. You’ve been seeing those more than his cocky smirks lately.
The sun continues to rise as you both kiss under its morning rays, lost in each other’s love. He only pulls back to speak again. “How about we gather some of the youngsters for a trip to the amusement park? It’s been a while.”
You can’t hide your worry at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Villains love to strike when you’re not active.
He gave a smug grin. Ah, there’s the old him. “They do, and they still get their asses kicked. My kids can handle it. I’ve got all the free time in the world, my little hen.” He holds you close and you both return to watching your darlings fly.
“More free time than I know what to do with.”
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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years
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Sparkler - Sidney Crosby
Word Count: 1,523
POV: Reader
Warnings: Nothing this is pure cuteness, unless you don’t like Sid as a dad.
Notes: No one asked for this, but here it is anyway, because it popped in my head last night when I was watching some fireworks with my family. Thanks to everyone who voted for Sid and to all those who want Dad Jamie Benn give me a scenario, or I may end up thinking of something who knows...lol. Happy 4th of July to all! 
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2020 had really been a hell of a year. Right now you should be in Cole Harbour, celebrating Canada Day at the lake house, but instead, you were still in Pittsburgh as you had been since the world and the NHL went on pause. You and Sid had decided to stay in Pittsburgh, in hopes that it wouldn’t be that long, yet here you were at the start of July practically in the same place. Well, not exactly the same.
You still planned on celebrating Canada Day, but you were also going to be celebrating the 4th of July in the States this time. Which was what you’d been used to, except for the last five years that you’d been with Sid. If you had to think back on it, last year had probably been the best. You’d been at the lake house; Sid had a fire going in the backyard and was roasting you a marshmallow as you fed your eleven-month-old daughter. She’d fallen asleep in your arms before the first firework had even gone off, and blessedly she’d stayed sleeping throughout each loud boom. After Sid fed you the gooey treat, he’d scooped you both up and held you as the sky lit with sparkling stars that reflected off the water.
Now here you were a year later, and there were no fireworks in the sky, but Sid still had a fire burning in the backyard. Only now the marshmallows were for your toddler. “Are you excited to see the fireworks soon, princess?” Sid asked her as he wiped the remnants of sticky sugar from her mouth and hands.
“Uh-huh, they will be so p-etty daddy.” She’d seen a few that had gone off from the neighborhood but only small glimpses. “How many more sleeps, before they come?”
“Only three more sleeps angel and then you can see them light up the sky.” Sid had made sure that the small suburb that you lived in had enough money to put on a great show for his little girl. Your house was in a prime spot, as they told him that they usually set them off just up the hill. He hoisted his daughter in his arms, tickling her; her giggles filling the air. “And now my little princess it is time for you to head to bed.”
When her laughter finally died down, she asked, “is this sleep number one?” She held up her finger to show the number. When you and Sid had taught her how to count; she would always count the number of sleeps he would be gone on a road trip until she could see him again. You weren’t sure how she was going to handle it when hockey started back up. She’d grown very used to her daddy being home.
“Yes, this is sleep number one.” You followed the two into the house and put your daughter to bed. Then spent the last few hours cuddling with Sid, next to the fire with the monitor close by.
The following two days, you prepped the house for the impromptu get together for the 4th of July celebration. It wasn’t near as many people as you’d both like. Just some of Sid’s teammates, along with their significant others. The guys had gotten together more often as restrictions had been lifted and they were all being tested; so you figured everyone was safe. Sid manned the grill, while you took care of fixing all the rest of the food. As dusk grew closer you brought out glow necklaces for a couple of kids to wear that were there. Though you weren’t surprised to see one around Sid’s neck and on top of his head.
“Look, mommy, daddy has a cown on.”
“Cr-own, sweetie.” You told her as she was having trouble with her ‘R’s.’ She repeated the word, still missing the R, but it was rather adorable. “And doesn’t he look very handsome in it.” She nodded her little head up and down, as you held her in your arms. You felt her grow heavier, as her little head relaxed onto your shoulder.
“Hey princess,” Sid said coming up to her. “Don’t fall asleep now. You waited for three whole sleeps to see the fireworks.
“I’m tired, though.”
“Here, wear daddy’s magic crown and it will wake you up.” Sid was truly phenomenal with his daughter and it was moments like this that made your heart swell even more. He looped the glow stick enough that she could wear it on her head, which had her perking up a bit. Just then a loud boom sounded, signaling the start of the fireworks, and your daughter started to cry.
“Awww, what’s wrong sweetie,” you asked.
“It’s too loud,” she sobbed out.
“Here you want daddy to hold you.” Sid had a way of calming her down from day one, and sure enough the minute she was in his arms the crying stopped. “Now what color do you think the next one will be.”
“Geen,” she answered enthusiastically. Sure enough, a green one shot up.
“How did you know that princess?” She just put her little hands up and shrugged. “Ok let’s watch and see what this one will be.”
“It’s blue daddy, it’s blue.”
“I see it, sweetie.”
“It’s so big and p-etty. Do you think there’s a gold one for the Pens, daddy?”
“There might be, we just have to keep looking.”
“Another geen, oooo,” You listened to two banter back and forth and couldn’t help sliding up and wrapping your arms around the two.
“I think the next one is going to be red,” you told the duo. All three of you looked in the air and when the firework exploded it was a brilliant shade of gold, nothing like the red you’d predicted.
“It was gold mommy, just like I said.” And then she laughed.
“Yeah, silly mommy thinking she could play our game huh princess.” Your husband teased.
Your daughter, tilted her father’s face towards hers, hands on each side of his cheeks, and said in a very serious hushed tone. “But Daddy, mommy can play. We don’t want her to be sad.” She had the sweetest heart, just like her father, and well maybe you too.
“Of course, mommy can play, we don’t ever want mommy to be sad.” He said looking over at you trying not to smirk, then pecking your lips.
“That’s better,” your daughter said, and turned her attention back to the fireworks. They went on for another fifteen minutes or more. The three of you playing the little game the entire time. As the finale, came on there were lots more booms, though she didn’t seem to mind them anymore.
You leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Make sure you make a wish on the last sparkle before it goes out.” You could see your little one concentrating hard and as the last one went off, she mumbled something under her breath. “What did you wish for, sweetie?”
“I wished for baby sister, like Alex so I have someone to play with all the time.” Your eyes widen and you looked over to your husband.
“Well princess, mommy, and daddy will have to work on that.” He said with a raise of his brows. You knew where his mind immediately went.
As your eyes stayed locked with his, you shrugged your shoulder and said, “Or maybe her wish already came true.” You’d been holding out for the perfect moment to tell Sid that you were pregnant, but this seemed almost too perfect to pass up.
“Really?”
You smiled brightly at your husband, while your daughter rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes really, though I can’t promise it will be a girl.” He kissed your lips, a gentle caress that you both wanted to last forever.
“You’re smooching me, daddy.” Your little girl piped up, causing you to break apart.
“Sorry, sweetie. Daddy is just really happy, that your wish is coming true.”
“It is?” She hadn’t realized you being pregnant would give her the little sister or brother that she’d asked for. “How many sleeps till she comes?”
“OH, it’s a lot of sleeps princess. I’m not sure you can count that high.” Sid told her.
“I’m gonna go see if Alex can count that high for me.” She wiggled out of Sid’s arms and scooted across the lawn to go play with her friends.
Sid drew you near then, holding you in the circle of his arms, while the two of you watched her play. “Ready for number two?” You asked.
“More than ready; though I’m not going to complain if it’s a boy.” You knew that Sid wanted a son, that he could pass down all his knowledge of hockey too; not that he wasn’t doing that already with your daughter, but a little boy would be different. “Though I wouldn’t mind another little sparkler like her.” He breathed out as, as he watched his baby girl. She really did have her daddy wrapped around her finger. While you, you simply had everything that you’d ever wanted.  
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Harsh Realms
A/N: This is it. This is the end. It’s been a long time coming. I really enjoyed writing this story, and I’m glad it found an appreciative audience in many of you. Thank you.
also on ff.net
Chapter Twenty Two: Love In A Cold Climate
Emma Swan had gotten some pretty crappy letters in her time.
There was the time an aggrieved reader had sent her an envelope at the Sentinel, stuffed with a suspicious white power. That one had necessitated a shutdown of the entire building by counter-terrorism, and a pretty invasive physical exam from CDC officials in HAZMAT suits. Baking soda, as it turned out.
Or even just the post-it note she’d found stuck to the side of the refrigerator two days after Christmas, informing her that August had drank the last of the milk, and could she please go the store for some more, as he was in the middle of a pivotal scene in his novel and didn’t want to interrupt his flow?
But the email she received in her inbox on January the 10th? That one left her reeling.
“Emma?”
She shut her laptop lid immediately, looking up to find her ne'er-do-well brother lingering by her bedroom doorway, looking all kinds of suspicious. “Uh, creeper much? It’s called knocking. You should try it.”
“I did knock. Twice. I’ve been very good with the knocking ever since the incident with the shower and the thing we agreed to never, ever talk about again.”
Emma could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks at the reminder. Let it be said, sharing an apartment with your boyfriend and your brother? Kinda awkward. Especially when said brother didn’t tend to announce himself before entering rooms that were otherwise… occupied.
“You wanted to talk?” Emma asked quickly, tossing her laptop aside to give August her full attention.
But for some reason he didn’t take her up on her unspoken invitation, continuing to dither in the hallway, hands buried in his pockets and eyes lowered to the floor.
“What is it?” Emma asked, narrowing her eyes. “Did you break the toaster again?
“Toaster is fine. I uh… can I sit?”
Jesus. Maybe he had cancer.
She patted the comforter beside her, and after a moment’s hesitation, the mattress dipped as he settled his weight beside her.
“Is everything alright?” Emma asked, looking him over for obvious signs of ill-health. She thought he looked pale, but it was kinda hard to tell, what with the beard and all.
“I, uh… I got a job.”
Of all the things she had expected him to say, that was not one of the things.
“Oh,” Emma said with a relieved laugh. “That’s great! The way you were acting, I thought you were terminal or something. What’s the job?”
“Assistant editor at a small magazine.”
Emma gave a low whistle. “Wow. Sounds perfect for you. So… why the long face?”
“The job’s in LA.”
A nuclear warhead might have had a softer landing.
“As in Los Angeles, LA?” she asked, her voice rising a few unnecessary octaves.
“That’s the one.” His tone was bright, but when his eyes finally lifted to meet hers, she could see every tumultuous feeling that was currently swimming around in her stomach reflected back at her.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell between them, the suffocating kind.
“So I guess we’re not renewing our lease, then,” Emma said, a little snippily.
“C'mon, Emma. Did you really want to anyway? I mean, as weird as it is, you and Killian seem to have a pretty good thing going here.”
He got an elbow to the kidneys for that one.
“Yeah, but this was just supposed to be a temporary fix, until you came back and I could afford groceries again. I wasn’t supposed to move in with the guy. We’ve been together for like a minute!”
“Em,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you like to overthink everything, and you’re always the first one to bail when things get too serious, but can we be honest with each other for a sec?”
“Seems like someone already is,” Emma mumbled.
“Emma, you’ve gotta face it: You’ve already moved in with the guy. Hell, you’re practically married.”
“Married?” Emma snorted. “Yeah, no.”
“Oh, really?” August said, one eyebrow raising in challenge. “Exhibit A: Christmas. You fell asleep on the couch together watching It’s A Wonderful Life.”
“I was tired!” Emma protested. “You don’t know how long it takes to decor-”
“Exhibit B!” August interrupted, holding a warning finger up in front of her face. “Breakfast. Every morning he cooks you breakfast, and every morning you two eat off each others’ plates like a pair of gooey-eyed savages.”
“He likes cooking!”
“Which brings us to Exhibit C!” August declared, ignoring her entirely. “You bought booties for his dog.”
“He gets cold!”
“I know it’s scary, Emma. But facts are facts, and the facts are these: You two? Married.”
“Why did I used to like you again?” Emma wondered aloud.
“Don’t get me wrong. This whole thing has mentally scarred me for life. Therapy will be needed. A whole boatload of therapy. But you were right. He’s not the worst guy you’ve ever dated. Not like that furniture guy. What was his name?”
“Walsh,” Emma supplied.
“Yeah, that guy. What a dick. Anyway, where was I going with this?”
Emma listed them off on her fingers. “Therapy? Things seen cannot be unseen?”
“Oh, yes,” August said, hitching himself back onto his train of thought. “Killian. Right. I mean, sure, the cleaning thing is a little weird, but I really am glad he was here for you when I wasn’t. And I’m glad you let him. Kinda surprised, but mostly glad.”
“Well, that’s kind of your fault, isn’t it? I mean, if you’d never wired him that fifty bucks in the first place, I might never even have seen him.”
August blinked. “Fifty bucks?”
“Yeah, the fifty bucks you wired him from Cambodia to come and check on-”. At the blank look on his face, comprehension dawned. “You never wired him money to come check on me, did you?”
August shifted guiltily. “Fraid not.”
“That sneaky son of a bitch!”
“I feel like I might like to recant,” August said, as Emma rose to her feet, fists clenching at her sides. “Is it too late to recant?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I’ve gotta-” She said, indicating towards her door with her thumb.
“Kick ass and take names?” August suggested, seeming more amused by the minute.
She almost made it a step, before pausing. “I’m really proud of you, by the way,” she said, leaning forward to brush a kiss to the top of his head. “And I want to hear all about this new job. Just as soon as I have a little chat with our dear Mr Jones.”
“Married!” August called after her, but Emma was already out the door.
It didn’t take her long to find him. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, homeward bound after a lap around the park, Smee trailing behind in his little sweater and booties. Even from a distance she could see when he spotted her approach, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Swan?” he asked, when she came into speaking range. “Is everything alright? August just sent me seven 911 texts. Is he-”
He didn’t get any further than that. Not when Emma practically leapt into his arms and laid one on him, for God and everyone to see. He stumbled a little as he caught her, his woolen cap falling off onto the sidewalk. Smee’s lead followed close behind, as he responded in kind.
“You’re such a lying liar!” she said, as soon as he put her down some minutes later.
“I’m sorry?” he asked, leaning over to pick it up his hat and the lead.
“You will be sorry in a minute,” Emma said, taking the cap from his hands and beating him lightly around the shoulders with it.
“I’m confused. Are you happy with me or are you angry with me? Because I really can’t tell.”
“I can’t believe-” Whack. “You used-” Whack. “My own superpower against me!”
He had the audacity to be surprised by this news. “I did?”
“You know my superpower only works when I can see you! August wired you fifty bucks, huh?”
At which point the penny finally dropped, and Killian’s look of affronted innocence morphed into something altogether more sheepish. “Ah.”
“Yes, ah,” she repeated. “All of this,” she said, indicating between them with the hat, “based on a lie!”
“A white lie,” Killian amended, grabbing his cap back and pulling it on again. “For the common good, I’m sure you’d agree?”
“I love you.”
It hadn’t been what she’d meant to say. She had been going to say something about badly laid foundations, or some other metaphor about rotten tree roots or something. But at the last second, she’d caught sight of his expression. The soft one that he always had when she was gearing up for a good rant, long-suffering, but fond. And the words had simply… slipped out.
He looked as shell shocked as she did. “I…” His jaw had actually fallen open. Like a cartoon character. He hastily shut it, before clearing his throat. “So, to be clear, you’re… not actually angry with me?”
Emma shook her head, a smile forming on her lips as she took a step closer.
“You’re… in love with me?”
Emma made a non-committal shrug, but when he swayed closer she nodded, her smile growing wider still.
“Bloody hell, you’re impossible,” he said, but it didn’t stop him from snaking an arm around her waist and leaning down for another kiss.
It was Emma who finally broke them apart, her hands against his chest. “So, to be clear, I’m not crazy, right? You’re in this with me?”
“Emma, don’t you know?” he said, leaning closer so that his freezing nose brushed her own. “You’re completely crazy. But I’m kind of hot for that.”
She slapped his chest, but he merely grinned a salacious grin. “Of course I’m in this with you, Swan. I know things haven’t exactly been easy these past few months, but they’ve been a million times better for having you by my side. Even with your, quite frankly, ridiculous ‘no intercourse’ rule-”
Emma placed her hand over his mouth, shooting an apologetic glance at the woman who’d just overtaken them on the sidewalk, looking scandalised.
“Way to go, buddy,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him back down the block, Smee at his heels. But his answering smile was unrepentant.
“In summary, Emma Swan, I bloody love you. Just so you know!” he called out, so they managed to attract strange looks from a pair of cyclists riding past.
To his surprise, she stopped suddenly, so that he nearly crashed into her. “Nice to hear it,” she said with an uncharacteristic grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Want to hear something else nice?”
“From you, love? Always.”
“August is moving out.” His hand tightened over hers, his smile fading but she shook her head before she continued. “He got a job in LA. A really good job, actually.”
“Swan…”
“I’m fine with it. Really. I think he needs it. A new city. A fresh start.”
“And you are…?” He asked, eyes filled with uncertainty.
“I’m staying here. In the apartment. With you. If… you’ll have me?” She asked, her bottom lip worrying between her teeth as she waited for his response.
What she maybe hadn’t expected was for him to lift her off her feet, his grin broad and boyish as he gazed up into her eyes. “On every available surface.”
“You’re gross,” she chided.
“But you’re kind of hot for that.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Jones, or you’re not getting anything.”
“As you wish.” And he did.
August was packed up and out of the apartment by Thursday, and Emma’s ‘no intercourse’ rule was broken five times before sunrise on Friday, but still there was something nagging at her. Something she still had left to do.
Their latest case was a simple enough one. Another poor chump accused of defrauding his insurance company. Only thing is, Emma was reasonably sure the guy was actually innocent this time around. Even so, they still had to make it look like they’d put the effort in, which meant far too much time spent in hire cars, video camera at the ready, whilst snacking on gummy worms and quizzing each other on clues for the crossword.
Technically speaking, this was not a two person job. But Emma had never been all that great at filing anyway, and diverting calls to her cell phone had hardly been the most arduous task. And the long stretches gave her time to muster the necessary courage to start the conversation she’d been avoiding for days.
“12 Down. Swagger. 5 letters.”
Killian raised an eyebrow from behind his binoculars. “I don’t swagger, Swan.”
She snorted. “Sure you don’t.”
“Nor do I strut.”
She consulted the page in front of her. “Strut. Strut fits!” she said, filling in the boxes. “Alright. Next one.” She scanned the list of clues, her heart leaping into her throat as she read it. “29 Down. To… receive something that is offered.”
“Accept?” Killian suggested, his attention still focused on their mark.
“Too many letters. Killian?”
Something in her tone must have given her away, because he set down the binoculars. “Swan?”
“I… got an email last week. With a job offer. A journalism job offer,” she clarified.
Some kind of noise escaped Killian’s throat, midway between a gasp and a sigh, but he did a good job of swallowing it down. “I had no idea you were still looking,” he said, his voice heartbreakingly even.
“That’s just it!” Emma said. “I wasn’t. I haven’t been. Not for months! But one of my old professors happened to mention my name to someone at the Globe. One of their reporters was snatched up by the New York Times, so now they’re looking for someone to fill the position kind of soon. Someone with experience, someone who’s not afraid to rattle some cages.”
“Sounds rather like you,” he pointed out with a trace of amusement.
“Yeah, but…” Emma indicated around her. “Now I’ve got all this!”
“Emma, love,” he said, reaching over to cup her face, thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Forget all of this for a moment. Do you want this job?”
She leaned into his touch, savoring her last moment of undecided bliss. “Of course I do. It’s a dream job. It’s the fucking Boston Globe! But-”
“Then take it,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “29 Down.”
Trust him to be thinking of a crossword in her time of crisis.
“But what about this? Us?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, Swan. But I’d say us is on pretty firm ground. What with you coming home to my bed every night.”
“Our bed,” Emma corrected. “We agreed that the new mattress means it now belongs to both of us. But what about Jones Investigations? I can’t just leave!”
“Love, let’s face it. I can hardly justify paying you as it is. You’re clearly overqualified, and you’ve rarely been called on to actually answer a phone. You’ve been bloody useful on the investigation front, and we make quite the team, but it’s not where your heart truly lies. I know that.”
“But what if you need help?”
“Then I’ll hire a temp. Surely not everyone from the agency is a Machiavellian villain in training?”
“Don’t you even joke.” Emma said, raising a finger in warning.
“Or maybe…” he said, leaning closer still, a rakish grin appearing. “On very special occasions. We could still go on stakeouts together,” he said, the words whispered into her skin.
“You mean, like now?” Emma asked, tilting her head to give him better access to where he was trailing hot kisses down her neck.
“Precisely, Swan. Let’s say we practice.”
“You’re the worst,” Emma moaned, as she tossed the crossword puzzle book into the backseat.
“Aye, darling,” Killian said, with a glint in his eye as he leaned back to remove his shirt. “But you love me for it.”
THE END
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topfygad · 5 years
Text
Weekend Reccos | Pop Culture Picks on Food & Travel
Team NGTI cherry-picks movies and books rooted in travel and food.
Food + Drink Inspire Me! NGT Staff | POSTED ON: November 1, 2019
  A still from Julia & Julia, with Meryl Streep as Julia Child.
For our November’s recommendation list, we picked a topic that has a universal appeal: food and travel. From documentaries on sushi to food in a universe driven by magic realism, these titles sure had us salivating. We hope they tickle your taste buds too.
  Films
Jiro Dreams Of Sushi
Before hitting play, app-in some sushi. You’ll crave it, 200 per cent, at the end of David Gelb’s 2011 documentary, a cinematic ode to Tokyo’s unbeatable sushi crafter, Jiro Ono. Shot inside Sukiyabashi Jiro, the 10-seater three-Michelin-starred tucked in a subway station, the film rhapsodises about Jiro’s skills and his focused obsessiveness about moulding perfect lumps of nigiri every single day of his life, even at 85. Scenes from Tokyo’s Tsukiji fish market and its singing tuna auctioneers add value, but it’s the montages that impress: Jiro’s wrinkled fingers flatten eels, sardines and tunas with the fluid dexterity of a conductor, orchestrating to Philip Glass’s score, which, though repetitive, crescendos, just like Jiro’s rhythm of making sushi. Even at my age, in my work, I haven’t reached perfection, he says in the film, and in saying that, Jiro exemplifies Japanese perfectionism.
— Humaira Ansari
  Julie & Julia
Nora Ephron’s Julie & Julia is a gastronomical treat for the eyes. Failed writer-cum-comfort- food-seeker Julie Powell is bent on challenging her mundane life in modern-day New York, and finds solace in her childhood icon, French chef Julia Child, whose 1950s journey with food in Paris is the stuff of legend. Powell pledges to cook all 524 recipes listed in Child’s book Mastering the Art of French Cooking—in 365 days. As she whips up Child’s famous beef bourguignon, lobster thermidor and a Queen of Sheba chocolate cake, a gratifying journey with food begins—for both Powell and Child (epitomised by Amy Adams and Meryl Streep perfectly), as well as for the foodie watching each dish on display…with just a little bit of drool oozing out.
–– Sanjana Ray
  Tampopo
Random vignettes of actual food porn, a gourmet gangster, and the saga of a perfect bowl of ramen intertwine themselves into the narrative of this avante garde ‘ramen western.’ Directed by Juzo Itami, Tampopo is as 1980s as it gets…and then some. The overarching theme of this beautiful, batshit food flick follows the story of a trailblazing widow desperate to keep her late husband’s ramen shop up and running in Japan; but the film’s depth delves into smashing the patriarchy, the power food holds over people, and the beau ideal moment of creating something with all your heart and soul.
— Julian Manning
  Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat 
Ever wonder what it’d be like to eat to your heart’s content around the world? Samin Nosrat did exactly that in her Netflix documentary Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. In the eponymous cookbook, the 39-year-old chef and food writer journeyed places far and wide in search of elements that define good cooking. She discovered that good cooking is, in fact, universal. From tasting slivers of pork fat and cheese in Italy that melt like butter and the revelation of profound effects of sea salt in Japan, to the acidic surprises of oranges and Mayan honey in Mexico, and the power of heat to unlock flavours of food at home in California—the four-part docu-series is a visual treat bound to get appetites racing.
— Pooja Naik
  Ramen Heads
Every day except Wednesdays, a queue begins to swell outside a closed shopfront in the Japanese city of Matsudo at dawn. The doors open only at 11 a.m., and the hungry pilgrims are let in to eat bowls of Japan’s best ramen at Chuka Soba Tomita Ramen. The documentary Ramen Heads is a behind-the-curtains exploration of the discipline and obsession of Osamu Tomita, the chef who creates ramen so perfect that it’s edible art.
Tomita’s process of creating tonkotsu-gyokai dipping broth—rich with pig’s head, seafood, bamboo shoots and char siu—and slurpable noodles, is a recipe of pleasure. The film also features other iconic ramen chefs, gently simmering with insight on Japan’s fervour for the dish and the genius it inspires.
— Kareena Gianani
  Chef
Jon Favreau’s 2014 film, Chef,  tugged at heartstrings and made stomachs growl in equal measure. It is the story of a beaten restaurant chef, Carl Casper (Favreau), who leaves glittering Los Angeles to drive a food-truck across America and rekindle his relationship with his estranged son. The movie also features scenes which make viewers beg for a bite for the food Favreau cooks on-screen—whether it’s the succulent, oozing, gooey cheese sandwich or the Cubano sandwich he sells in his food truck. Food often acts as balm for relationships, and the scenes where Casper takes his son to eat the famed beignets at New Orleans’s Café Du Monde or 12-hour roasted brisket in Austin, show just that. It’s time to go make a sandwich.
–– Lubna Amir
  Books
The Gastronomical Me
Every food essayist owes some debt to M.F.K. Fisher, a writer with a gourmand’s relish for life. This prose collection is ostensibly a memoir, tackling childhood, marriage, sex and loneliness, all in her elliptical narrative style. However, culinary enthusiasts prize it for what it really is—a slow-burning journey of a woman’s passion for food. Right from her delight at swallowing her first oyster in America to stealing caviar-accompanied moments with her lover in France, Fisher practised good eating like a preacher, and in her vivid, sensual descriptions of food, made apostles of many a reader.
— Lakshmi Sankaran
  Like Water for Chocolate
An appetite for real emotions, and one for quail in rose petal sauce or fat Christmas rolls, is what you bring to the table when Mexican novelist Laura Esquivel throws a banquet named Like Water for Chocolate. This is the story of Tita and Pedro, young lovers hungry enough to swindle fate for each other, yet somehow always shortchanged by malevolent stars. Food features in the novel as heavily as love, cream fritters or Champandongo casseroles, complete with old-fashioned recipes laid down whimsically, an extension of the novel’s magic realism.
It is safe to say that Tita and Pedro’s cosmic love travels from the kitchen to the dinner tables to bedroom of Mama Elena’s family ranch, kindling both passion and devastation in its wake. Bound and freed by its surrealism, this is not your typical travel narrative. But if you’ve ever wanted to travel to turn-of-the-century rural Mexico, beautiful and explosive in its revolution, here’s the ticket.
— Sohini Das Gupta
  To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller India and National Geographic Magazine, head here.
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topfygad · 5 years
Text
Weekend Reccos | Pop Culture Picks on Food & Travel
Team NGTI cherry-picks movies and books rooted in travel and food.
Food + Drink Inspire Me! NGT Staff | POSTED ON: November 1, 2019
  A still from Julia & Julia, with Meryl Streep as Julia Child.
For our November’s recommendation list, we picked a topic that has a universal appeal: food and travel. From documentaries on sushi to food in a universe driven by magic realism, these titles sure had us salivating. We hope they tickle your taste buds too.
  Films
Jiro Dreams Of Sushi
Before hitting play, app-in some sushi. You’ll crave it, 200 per cent, at the end of David Gelb’s 2011 documentary, a cinematic ode to Tokyo’s unbeatable sushi crafter, Jiro Ono. Shot inside Sukiyabashi Jiro, the 10-seater three-Michelin-starred tucked in a subway station, the film rhapsodises about Jiro’s skills and his focused obsessiveness about moulding perfect lumps of nigiri every single day of his life, even at 85. Scenes from Tokyo’s Tsukiji fish market and its singing tuna auctioneers add value, but it’s the montages that impress: Jiro’s wrinkled fingers flatten eels, sardines and tunas with the fluid dexterity of a conductor, orchestrating to Philip Glass’s score, which, though repetitive, crescendos, just like Jiro’s rhythm of making sushi. Even at my age, in my work, I haven’t reached perfection, he says in the film, and in saying that, Jiro exemplifies Japanese perfectionism.
— Humaira Ansari
  Julie & Julia
Nora Ephron’s Julie & Julia is a gastronomical treat for the eyes. Failed writer-cum-comfort- food-seeker Julie Powell is bent on challenging her mundane life in modern-day New York, and finds solace in her childhood icon, French chef Julia Child, whose 1950s journey with food in Paris is the stuff of legend. Powell pledges to cook all 524 recipes listed in Child’s book Mastering the Art of French Cooking—in 365 days. As she whips up Child’s famous beef bourguignon, lobster thermidor and a Queen of Sheba chocolate cake, a gratifying journey with food begins—for both Powell and Child (epitomised by Amy Adams and Meryl Streep perfectly), as well as for the foodie watching each dish on display…with just a little bit of drool oozing out.
–– Sanjana Ray
  Tampopo
Random vignettes of actual food porn, a gourmet gangster, and the saga of a perfect bowl of ramen intertwine themselves into the narrative of this avante garde ‘ramen western.’ Directed by Juzo Itami, Tampopo is as 1980s as it gets…and then some. The overarching theme of this beautiful, batshit food flick follows the story of a trailblazing widow desperate to keep her late husband’s ramen shop up and running in Japan; but the film’s depth delves into smashing the patriarchy, the power food holds over people, and the beau ideal moment of creating something with all your heart and soul.
— Julian Manning
  Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat 
Ever wonder what it’d be like to eat to your heart’s content around the world? Samin Nosrat did exactly that in her Netflix documentary Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. In the eponymous cookbook, the 39-year-old chef and food writer journeyed places far and wide in search of elements that define good cooking. She discovered that good cooking is, in fact, universal. From tasting slivers of pork fat and cheese in Italy that melt like butter and the revelation of profound effects of sea salt in Japan, to the acidic surprises of oranges and Mayan honey in Mexico, and the power of heat to unlock flavours of food at home in California—the four-part docu-series is a visual treat bound to get appetites racing.
— Pooja Naik
  Ramen Heads
Every day except Wednesdays, a queue begins to swell outside a closed shopfront in the Japanese city of Matsudo at dawn. The doors open only at 11 a.m., and the hungry pilgrims are let in to eat bowls of Japan’s best ramen at Chuka Soba Tomita Ramen. The documentary Ramen Heads is a behind-the-curtains exploration of the discipline and obsession of Osamu Tomita, the chef who creates ramen so perfect that it’s edible art.
Tomita’s process of creating tonkotsu-gyokai dipping broth—rich with pig’s head, seafood, bamboo shoots and char siu—and slurpable noodles, is a recipe of pleasure. The film also features other iconic ramen chefs, gently simmering with insight on Japan’s fervour for the dish and the genius it inspires.
— Kareena Gianani
  Chef
Jon Favreau’s 2014 film, Chef,  tugged at heartstrings and made stomachs growl in equal measure. It is the story of a beaten restaurant chef, Carl Casper (Favreau), who leaves glittering Los Angeles to drive a food-truck across America and rekindle his relationship with his estranged son. The movie also features scenes which make viewers beg for a bite for the food Favreau cooks on-screen—whether it’s the succulent, oozing, gooey cheese sandwich or the Cubano sandwich he sells in his food truck. Food often acts as balm for relationships, and the scenes where Casper takes his son to eat the famed beignets at New Orleans’s Café Du Monde or 12-hour roasted brisket in Austin, show just that. It’s time to go make a sandwich.
–– Lubna Amir
  Books
The Gastronomical Me
Every food essayist owes some debt to M.F.K. Fisher, a writer with a gourmand’s relish for life. This prose collection is ostensibly a memoir, tackling childhood, marriage, sex and loneliness, all in her elliptical narrative style. However, culinary enthusiasts prize it for what it really is—a slow-burning journey of a woman’s passion for food. Right from her delight at swallowing her first oyster in America to stealing caviar-accompanied moments with her lover in France, Fisher practised good eating like a preacher, and in her vivid, sensual descriptions of food, made apostles of many a reader.
— Lakshmi Sankaran
  Like Water for Chocolate
An appetite for real emotions, and one for quail in rose petal sauce or fat Christmas rolls, is what you bring to the table when Mexican novelist Laura Esquivel throws a banquet named Like Water for Chocolate. This is the story of Tita and Pedro, young lovers hungry enough to swindle fate for each other, yet somehow always shortchanged by malevolent stars. Food features in the novel as heavily as love, cream fritters or Champandongo casseroles, complete with old-fashioned recipes laid down whimsically, an extension of the novel’s magic realism.
It is safe to say that Tita and Pedro’s cosmic love travels from the kitchen to the dinner tables to bedroom of Mama Elena’s family ranch, kindling both passion and devastation in its wake. Bound and freed by its surrealism, this is not your typical travel narrative. But if you’ve ever wanted to travel to turn-of-the-century rural Mexico, beautiful and explosive in its revolution, here’s the ticket.
— Sohini Das Gupta
  To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller India and National Geographic Magazine, head here.
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0 notes
topfygad · 5 years
Text
Weekend Reccos | Pop Culture Picks on Food & Travel
Team NGTI cherry-picks movies and books rooted in travel and food.
Food + Drink Inspire Me! NGT Staff | POSTED ON: November 1, 2019
  A still from Julia & Julia, with Meryl Streep as Julia Child.
For our November’s recommendation list, we picked a topic that has a universal appeal: food and travel. From documentaries on sushi to food in a universe driven by magic realism, these titles sure had us salivating. We hope they tickle your taste buds too.
  Films
Jiro Dreams Of Sushi
Before hitting play, app-in some sushi. You’ll crave it, 200 per cent, at the end of David Gelb’s 2011 documentary, a cinematic ode to Tokyo’s unbeatable sushi crafter, Jiro Ono. Shot inside Sukiyabashi Jiro, the 10-seater three-Michelin-starred tucked in a subway station, the film rhapsodises about Jiro’s skills and his focused obsessiveness about moulding perfect lumps of nigiri every single day of his life, even at 85. Scenes from Tokyo’s Tsukiji fish market and its singing tuna auctioneers add value, but it’s the montages that impress: Jiro’s wrinkled fingers flatten eels, sardines and tunas with the fluid dexterity of a conductor, orchestrating to Philip Glass’s score, which, though repetitive, crescendos, just like Jiro’s rhythm of making sushi. Even at my age, in my work, I haven’t reached perfection, he says in the film, and in saying that, Jiro exemplifies Japanese perfectionism.
— Humaira Ansari
  Julie & Julia
Nora Ephron’s Julie & Julia is a gastronomical treat for the eyes. Failed writer-cum-comfort- food-seeker Julie Powell is bent on challenging her mundane life in modern-day New York, and finds solace in her childhood icon, French chef Julia Child, whose 1950s journey with food in Paris is the stuff of legend. Powell pledges to cook all 524 recipes listed in Child’s book Mastering the Art of French Cooking—in 365 days. As she whips up Child’s famous beef bourguignon, lobster thermidor and a Queen of Sheba chocolate cake, a gratifying journey with food begins—for both Powell and Child (epitomised by Amy Adams and Meryl Streep perfectly), as well as for the foodie watching each dish on display…with just a little bit of drool oozing out.
–– Sanjana Ray
  Tampopo
Random vignettes of actual food porn, a gourmet gangster, and the saga of a perfect bowl of ramen intertwine themselves into the narrative of this avante garde ‘ramen western.’ Directed by Juzo Itami, Tampopo is as 1980s as it gets…and then some. The overarching theme of this beautiful, batshit food flick follows the story of a trailblazing widow desperate to keep her late husband’s ramen shop up and running in Japan; but the film’s depth delves into smashing the patriarchy, the power food holds over people, and the beau ideal moment of creating something with all your heart and soul.
— Julian Manning
  Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat 
Ever wonder what it’d be like to eat to your heart’s content around the world? Samin Nosrat did exactly that in her Netflix documentary Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. In the eponymous cookbook, the 39-year-old chef and food writer journeyed places far and wide in search of elements that define good cooking. She discovered that good cooking is, in fact, universal. From tasting slivers of pork fat and cheese in Italy that melt like butter and the revelation of profound effects of sea salt in Japan, to the acidic surprises of oranges and Mayan honey in Mexico, and the power of heat to unlock flavours of food at home in California—the four-part docu-series is a visual treat bound to get appetites racing.
— Pooja Naik
  Ramen Heads
Every day except Wednesdays, a queue begins to swell outside a closed shopfront in the Japanese city of Matsudo at dawn. The doors open only at 11 a.m., and the hungry pilgrims are let in to eat bowls of Japan’s best ramen at Chuka Soba Tomita Ramen. The documentary Ramen Heads is a behind-the-curtains exploration of the discipline and obsession of Osamu Tomita, the chef who creates ramen so perfect that it’s edible art.
Tomita’s process of creating tonkotsu-gyokai dipping broth—rich with pig’s head, seafood, bamboo shoots and char siu—and slurpable noodles, is a recipe of pleasure. The film also features other iconic ramen chefs, gently simmering with insight on Japan’s fervour for the dish and the genius it inspires.
— Kareena Gianani
  Chef
Jon Favreau’s 2014 film, Chef,  tugged at heartstrings and made stomachs growl in equal measure. It is the story of a beaten restaurant chef, Carl Casper (Favreau), who leaves glittering Los Angeles to drive a food-truck across America and rekindle his relationship with his estranged son. The movie also features scenes which make viewers beg for a bite for the food Favreau cooks on-screen—whether it’s the succulent, oozing, gooey cheese sandwich or the Cubano sandwich he sells in his food truck. Food often acts as balm for relationships, and the scenes where Casper takes his son to eat the famed beignets at New Orleans’s Café Du Monde or 12-hour roasted brisket in Austin, show just that. It’s time to go make a sandwich.
–– Lubna Amir
  Books
The Gastronomical Me
Every food essayist owes some debt to M.F.K. Fisher, a writer with a gourmand’s relish for life. This prose collection is ostensibly a memoir, tackling childhood, marriage, sex and loneliness, all in her elliptical narrative style. However, culinary enthusiasts prize it for what it really is—a slow-burning journey of a woman’s passion for food. Right from her delight at swallowing her first oyster in America to stealing caviar-accompanied moments with her lover in France, Fisher practised good eating like a preacher, and in her vivid, sensual descriptions of food, made apostles of many a reader.
— Lakshmi Sankaran
  Like Water for Chocolate
An appetite for real emotions, and one for quail in rose petal sauce or fat Christmas rolls, is what you bring to the table when Mexican novelist Laura Esquivel throws a banquet named Like Water for Chocolate. This is the story of Tita and Pedro, young lovers hungry enough to swindle fate for each other, yet somehow always shortchanged by malevolent stars. Food features in the novel as heavily as love, cream fritters or Champandongo casseroles, complete with old-fashioned recipes laid down whimsically, an extension of the novel’s magic realism.
It is safe to say that Tita and Pedro’s cosmic love travels from the kitchen to the dinner tables to bedroom of Mama Elena’s family ranch, kindling both passion and devastation in its wake. Bound and freed by its surrealism, this is not your typical travel narrative. But if you’ve ever wanted to travel to turn-of-the-century rural Mexico, beautiful and explosive in its revolution, here’s the ticket.
— Sohini Das Gupta
  To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller India and National Geographic Magazine, head here.
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source http://cheaprtravels.com/weekend-reccos-pop-culture-picks-on-food-travel/
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