#Whole Peeled Tomatoes

[askwhatsforlunch]

Hot Pasta alla Vodka (Vegetarian)

This spicy, creamy and warming Hot Pasta alla Vodka makes a deliciously comforting lunch, especially when you've caught a bit of a chill! Happy Tuesday!

Ingredients (serves 2):

2 cups short pasta (like orecchiette)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 large onion

1/3 red chili pepper

a generous bunch Garden Parsley 

3 large Whole Peeled Tomatoes+ 1/3 cup of their juice

1 tablespoon Hot Pepper Sauce 

a pinch of fleur de sel or sea salt flakes and freshly cracked black pepper, to taste

5 tablespoons good quality Vodka

½ tablespoon caster sugar

half a dozen large leaves Garden Basil

½ cup double cream

Parmesan Cheese

In a pot of salted boiling water, cook orecchiette according to package’s direction, usually 9 to 11 minutes until al dente.

While the pasta is cooking, heat olive oil in a large, deep, nonstick skillet over medium heat. 

Finely chop the onion and stir into the skillet. Cook, a couple of minutes until softened.

Thinly slice red chili pepper, and add to the skillet; cook, 1 minute more. 

Finely chop Parsley, and stir into the skillet as well.

Roughly chop Whole Peeled Tomatoes, and stir them into the skillet, along with their juice. Increase heat to medium-high, and simmer, 4 minutes, stirring often. Stir in Hot Pepper Sauce. Season with salt and black pepper, to taste. Then, stir in Vodka and caster sugar. 

Finely chop Basil, and stir half into the sauce. Simmer, a couple of minutes more, then add double cream.  Allow to reduce and thicken a little, 2 minutes.

Then, drain orecchiette, saving 1/3 cup of its starchy water. Stir both into the skillet, coating the pasta in sauce. Grate in about ¼ cup Parmesan. Give a gentle stir until the sauce beautifully coats the pasta.

Serve Hot Pasta alla Vodka, sprinkled with remaining fresh Basil, topped with freshly grated Parmesan, hot, with a glass of chilled dry white wine, like a light and citrus-y Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc.

#Recipe #Food #Hot Pasta alla Vodka #Hot Pasta alla Vodka recipe #Pasta alla Vodka #Pasta alla Vodka recipe #Pasta #Orecchiette #Pasta and Noodle #Olive Oil #Onion #Chili Pepper #Hot Chili Pepper #Parsley #Garden Parsley #Fresh Parsley #Whole Peeled Tomatoes #Tomatoes #Hot Pepper Sauce #Homemade Hot Pepper Sauce #Fleur de Sel #Black Pepper #Black Peppercorns #Vodka #Caster Sugar #Sugar #Double Cream #Basil #Garden Basil #Fresh Basil

[nihilisticlinguistics]

folks the tomato situation is dire

#i am about to water-bath ALL my whole (peeled) romas #literally 8 quarts of tomatoes #and that's about a quarter of all the tomatoes that were in my house when i woke this morning #(an additional quarter had succumbed to Too Gross to Can Syndrome) #the remainder are all my lil round boys and i do not think i will be able to get to them today so they will remain. on my kitchen table. #forlorn.

[wormchaser]

bored, cant sleep, tempted by mental hunger

#i could eat iced cream. i could eat whole peeled tomatoes out of a can

[placeofwonder]

friendship ended with tins of chopped tomatoes, now tins of whole tomatoes are my best friend

#mine #personal #cooking #so #so! #i'm reading this recipe that says to use a tin of 'whole peeled tomatoes that you've crushed with your hands' #i go 'feels like that could just be a tin of chopped tomatoes but sure' #but. but! every tin of chopped tomatoes i've ever bought had the tomatoes in tomato juice that made the whole thing so watery #these whole tomatoes were in tomato puree instead! this tomato sauce i made with them was so rich and nice #and now i'm very excited to use these in bolognese and chilli and so on #(tomato puree as in like tomato sauce. not the concentrated stuff that comes in a tube) #but honestly the best part was crushing the tomatoes #you get to stick your hand into a bowl of red stuff and fish for slippery objects and squeeze them #which i think satisfies some sort of deep-seated feral urge

[tunatoge]

little lunch mishap - s. gojo x reader

contents: fem!reader (called mom/momma), mentions of eating, gojo sucks at packing lunches for his kids, written a little after gojo finds megumi and tsumiki

when gojo first met megumi, he’d made sure his infinity was on; he had you and shoko throw random things at him from across the field with and without cursed energy to make sure it worked properly. now, two years later, he doesn’t even realize that it’s off around the seven-year-old kid—not until megumi nails him in the face with an unripe clementine.

“ow!” gojo exclaims, bringing his hand up to his cheek as he lets his sunglasses clatter to the floor. “what was that for, megs?”

megumi glares at gojo, holding a softer and riper clementine in his grasp. you glance over at them from the kitchen as they stare each other down.

“that was the fruit you put in my lunch,” megumi grumbles as he sinks his little fingers into his ripe clementine. “i know you packed it ‘cause mom normally peels them for me.”

“okay,” gojo starts as he leans over and picks up the clementine megumi threw at him, the skin split and the sticky juice dripping all over the tiled floor and his hands. he places the ruined fruit on the counter, bending over again and picking up his sunglasses. “momma had a mission this morning, so me—your amazing and awesome dad—packed your lunch and tsumiki’s,” gojo says with gritted teeth, putting unnecessary stress on the word ‘dad’. “and by the way,” he adds as an afterthought, “tsumiki ate all of her’s.” gojo puffs his chest triumphantly, settling his glasses back onto his face.

you glance at tsumiki as she does her homework, stifling your laughter when a small grimace washes over her features.

“was it that bad?” you ask her in a quiet whisper, making sure gojo and megumi don’t hear you.

tsumiki looks up at you and nods, “satoru made us sandwiches but i think he used the bread that you told him to throw out; it was kind of moldy.” she takes in your wide eyes and adds: “i didn’t eat it, i threw it away.”

you let out a relieved sigh, turning back around to pick up a plate of sliced apples and a cup of peanut butter. you place it down on the kitchen island next to tsumiki as she thanks you. megumi finishes shoving his peeled clementine in his mouth, passing the peel off to gojo as he takes a seat next to his sister.

“are you making lunch tomorrow for school?” he asks you, picking up an apple slice and taking a bite out of it.

you hum in response, scooping out some marshmallow fluff fruit dip you’d made a few days ago. you set it in front of gojo who begrudgingly reaches over and takes an apple slice. you stop megumi from slapping the fruit out of gojo’s hand.

“hey! it wasn’t that bad,” gojo insists through a mouthful of apple. megumi looks at him in disgust. “you had veggies, fruits, and a main meal! i even packed a snack in there!”

you sigh, “‘gumi, what did satoru pack you?”

megumi wipes his hands on a napkin as he looks at you. he makes a point to swallow before speaking. “an unripe clementine, a whole unpeeled carrot from the garden with its top still on, a moldy sandwich, and a family sized bag of skittles.” he swings his feet back and forth under the kitchen island, “i ate the carrot.”

you glance at satoru who reddens at megumi’s words, “okay… tsumiki, what was in yours?” you turn your attention to the little girl who sits next to megumi.

tsumiki glances at gojo in sympathy, “a moldy sandwich, a whole avocado, a green tomato that he picked from the garden even though megumi said it was unready, and a chocolate bar.” she looks at you with a smile, “i ate the avocado. i also had a square from the chocolate bar.”

you frown as you turn back around and pull out a bag of bread and an open bag of chips. gojo watches as you easily slather two slices of bread in peanut butter and strawberry jam, slicing it diagonally and placing the pieces on two different plates. you dump a generous amount of chips on each plate before placing them in front of megumi and tsumiki. you turn around and pick up the marshmallow fluff dip, sliding it into the fridge and shutting the door with your hip. gojo unabashedly stares at your ass when you bend over.

“okay, satoru,” you sigh as you turn towards him. he looks up at you with bright eyes, smiling into his palm. his glasses are on the counter. “from now on, you’ll take my morning missions and i’ll make their lunches.” you watch from the corner of your eye as megumi eagerly eats his chips and sandwich. “and you’ll throw out the bread when i tell you it’s gone bad.”

gojo drops his head on the counter. “you know, you’re so pretty, baby.” he looks up at you through his lashes, batting them intensely. “i’m truthfully so lucky to have you in my life.”

you look at him blankly. “and you’ll be doing the dishes for the next two weeks.”

“WHAT?”

#vians.scribbs #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[redgoldtomatoesfromeurope]

Most people associate canned tomatoes with red gold whole peeled tomatoes. They are blanched in hot water for a few seconds, peeled, stuffed into jars, covered, and boiled to seal the jars. It is pointless to sugarcoat it: the process is time-consuming and inconvenient. However, no special skills are required. Anyone with an abundance of ripe tomatoes and the necessary canning equipment can do it, and whole tomatoes are a great way to get started. https://redgoldtomatoesfromeurope.com/

#Red Gold Whole Peeled Tomatoes

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! Welcome to chapter 2! We're going to be attempting a nice lil fruit-focused quiche/frittata/pie thing. And yes, tomatoes are fruits.

Who says you cant eat totally normal things in a dungeon with definitely no monsters in them? 

You know what that means; Man-Eating Plant Tart!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Man-Eating Plant Tart?” YOU MIGHT ASKThe way its prepared in the show is akin to a frittata, but the crust is borrowed from quiche world.

Eggs

Whole milk

Bell peppers

Persimmons

Cherry tomatoes

Pitted green olives

Thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

In the show they use leftover hotpot stock, slime, and mashed up fruit as the batter ingredients. Fruit mush is easy to work with but I couldn't find any stand-in for slime that would cook correctly into what they made in the show, and the hotpot stock is just not thick enough to carry the base. It is too many watery ingredients at once. Needing a thickening agent, both gelatin and agar agar were tried. It was edible but the texture was… gelatinous. Regular egg and milk will serve for our purposes.

The next complication was the crust- so in the show its made with the skins of fruit, straightforward yeah? Well. You see it also has to be 1. Thick enough to bake without burning 2. Harden through cooking to be sliced and held and 3. Inedible. Lotus leaves? Plantain leaves? Really thin gourds? I couldnt find any historical basis for a savory food cooked in this method, or similar method, with an intentionally inedible crust. I could find a few dishes which used leaves as their crust, but none that hardened during cooking and even less that used fruit skin. I chose sweet potato skin for its visual match and texture. It is edible, and it is not a fruit.

I hope youll forgive me for these 2 major deviations as i wanted to keep it looking how it does in the show while also ensuring it tastes good.

AND, “what does a Man-Eating Plant Tart taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKFluffy, airy, savory, salty.

The density of the eggs is offset by the crisp fruits

And the saltiness doesnt overpower the remnant fruit-sweetness

(If you eat the crust) the sweet potato brings this nice muted, smokey, flavor

Spongecake-esque in consistency

Would pair well with cranberry or strawberry juice

Would also pair well with a mellow hot sauce?

. You can use heavy cream instead of milk for a creamier batter . Roast the fruit longer to remove more liquid if too wet (and vice versa if too dry) . Smoked paprika, pepper flakes, cumin, garlic powder, and onion powder would taste good in the mixture

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A mixture of mashed up and cut up Man-Eating Plant fruit, slime and scorpion soup is poured into a pan lined with the flattened peel of the fruit and cooked before garnishing with some more fruit. Described as salty by the group."

From start to finish this recipe took 3-ish hours? Shredding the potatoes took the longest, so if you get them bagged itd be cut down. A very filling recipe and a good way to sneak veggies/fruits in if you have a hard time getting enough of those essential nutrients. The best advice i can give is to add salt/seasonings at every stage of the process, to build up layers. It makes a difference flavor-wise (even if its just salt). I advise against reheating if possible. The filling will make the crust soggy over time.

If you want to be closer to the cooking of the show, you could double the fruit amounts and mash them together while halving the amount of egg and milk. I hadnt tried due to budget reasons, but it should work with some finangling. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys with how todays recipe turned out <333

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do better, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

3 Eggs

13oz whole milk

2 bell peppers

2 small persimmons

140oz cherry tomatoes

12oz pitted green olives

34oz thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

Method:

Heat oven to 420f and grease a 9-inch pie pan.

Thinly slice (or shred) your sweet potatoes and squeeze out any excess moisture. Coat in olive oil, salt and pepper.

Press sweet potato mixture evenly into and up the sides of the pie pan.

Blind bake for roughly 25 minutes or until lightly golden-brown. No worries if the edges get crisp.

Remove pie pan from oven and set aside.

Core and chop up your bell peppers and persimmons. Coat with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Line out on a baking sheet, evenly spaced, and roast for roughly 20 minutes or until softened. (you can do this at the same time on a separate rack from the pie crust if you have room)

Remove the stems from your cherry tomatoes, and drain/dry your green olives if canned.

Bring a frying pan to medium heat with olive oil. Add the green olives and sautee until their skin texture starts dimpling. Add the cherry tomatoes and continue sauteeing for about 5 minutes or until lightly browned.

Once the bell peppers, persimmons, cherry tomatoes, and green olives are all done, set aside to cool until just above room temp.

Lower the oven temperature to 350f.

In a mixing bowl combine your eggs and milk, add salt to taste. If you want other seasonings nows a good time!

Once uniform in color and texture, add your cooked fruit. Stir until evenly distributed.

Pour mixture into the potato pie crust.

Bake for roughly 40 minutes. The filling should be mostly firm, but wiggle *slightly* when you shake the pan.

Remove from oven and let rest for roughly 15 minutes before serving.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #cooking recipes #digital art

[thebearer]

the milestone menu: roasted red pepper and tomato soup for sad days

prompt: the death of mikey's anniversary is near. you make a comfort meal for carmen.

contains: mentions of death. angty with a side of fluff (at the end). anxious!carmen (i mean ofc).

INGREDIENTS

3 red bell peppers. 4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, chopped. An onion, chopped. 2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 tsp thyme. 2 tsp paprika. A pinch of sugar. Salt & pepper. Cayenne

1/2 cup Chicken broth. 2 tbsp butter. 1 1/2 tbsp flour.

DIRECTIONS

Cover peppers in oil, broil until black, turn to get all sides. Put them in a paper bag to rest, the skin & seeds should come off easily. Chop. Heat oil on med heat in a large pot, cook garlic & onions until soft. Add tomatoes, peppers, thyme, paprika, and sugar. Cook on med-low, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Stir in 6 cups of chicken stock, salt & pepper. Bring to boil & simmer for 20 mins, until the vegetables are tender. Strain soup. Use a food processor or blender, and blend solids to your desired consistency. In your large pot, melt butter & add flour. Add soup/purée and stir, simmer for a few minutes.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s voice came to you before he did. A heavy sigh, tired and heavy from the day, from the looming anniversary approaching. 

Mikey’s death date was creeping closer and closer, the days darker and colder as did Carmen’s demeanor. Longer days at work, distant even when he was home with you. You worried about him, though everyone told you not to. 

“He just… he gets like this when it gets closer to the date, you know?” Richie muttered when you’d confided in him at family dinner. “We all get kinda fucked up, but Carm… That’s just how he is, y’know? Just give’im some time.” 

Anchovy purred, rubbing against Carmen’s leg. It was almost like he knew. Carmen would swear he did, that he could sense his owner’s upset, that he was trying to make it better. He’s like you, Carmen would say, giving you a half grin that always had you swooning. 

Carmen frowned when he didn’t see you lingering about. Not in the doorway smiling at them, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping him in a hug. “Babe?” Carmen called again, looking down the hall. The lights were on in the kitchen, a small clinking of bowls and silverware. 

Carmen found you in front of the stove, trying to keep quiet, stirring a pan on the burner gently. “Hey,” He frowned when you jumped, turning around with a wide eyed gaze, like you’d been caught. 

“Carm,” You chirped, body shimmying in front of the stove, too close to the flame in a too loose shirt. Carmen fought the urge to tell you to move or tuck your shirt in. 

“You’re-You weren’t supposed to be home early.” You turned to the clock blinking on the microwave. “I-I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour.” 

“Richie told me to leave.” Carmen frowned, trying to peer around you. 

“Why?” You blocked his view with your body, a side step in front of him. 

“‘Cause he’s a fuckin’ jaggoff lately. What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffed lightly, grabbing your waist gently, holding you in place so he could see around you. A large pot on the stove, bubbling to life, steam clouding the clear lid that covered it. 

“I’m cooking.” You huffed, shoulders deflating lightly. “I-I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned, and I got candles and I was going to change out of this.” You threw your hands down on your sweatshirt- Carmen’s sweatshirt. One from Copenhagen he’d picked up when it was especially cold. You’d stolen in, not that he minded, he liked you better in it anyways. 

“Was going to at least try to look a little nice.” You mutter, wiping off a small stain, a glob of tomato that had flung when the processor lid wouldn’t come off earlier. 

“You look beautiful, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head at you. “What’re you- Why’re you doin’ all this?” His heart skipped for a moment, looking at the calendar pinned on the fridge. “Did I- We didn’t have plans?” Fuck, he’d been so busy he’d forgotten. Head everywhere but where it needed to be. First he was fuckin’ up dishes left and right at work, and now he couldn’t even remember a fuckin’ date. 

“No,” You shook your head, stilling Carmen’s racing mind. “I just… I wanted to do something nice.” You looked up at him, hands grabbing him sweetly, holding them in your own. “For you.”

“For me?” Carmen whispered, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about for me? What-Why would you wanna-” 

“Because,” You shrugged lightly, hands swinging between the two of you gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.” 

Carmen saw the hesitation on your face, knew what was coming before you said it. He tensed in your hold. “I just… With everything-” 

“-Don’t.” Carmen shook his head, the burn in his throat strangling his voice. “You don’t have to, baby.” 

“I do.” Your eyes met his, rounding in his gaze. “I want to. I-I don’t really think it will help, but… I don’t know. Whenever I was sad my mom would make this for me.” You nod back towards the pot on the stove. “It always made me feel better.” 

Carmen thought he might cry. He willed himself, squeezing your hands, pulling you into his chest to hold you. He just needed to hold you, to feel you, pressing his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent. 

All the emotions he’d repressed, swallowed down and tried to power through. Anytime he’d turn the corner, see Mikey’s smiling face on the fall and he’d feel like breaking down. Screaming, crying, punching the walls, pulling his hair out, ears ringing and heart hammering; instead, he’d go to the walk-in to breathe through collapsing lungs.

You felt Carmen’s shaky breath, rattle out of his chest and shake into yours. Your hand rubbed gently against his back, up his spine in a soothing way you hoped would calm him. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, cheeks pressed against his chest. His heart raced in your ear, a pounding thud that made your own heart squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Carm.” 

“It’s alright.” Carmen gritted, jaw clenching, willing his tears back. “It’s-it’s just a lot. I don’t even fuckin’ know why. Why-Why I even get like this when-when it’s been so long.” 

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, frowning at him lightly. 

“No, no it’s true. I- fuck, I shouldn’t be-” 

“-Carmen,” You held his gaze firmly. His red rimmed blue eyes met yours, a little wary, vulnerable. You softened, fingers brushing through his hair. “It’s ok.” 

The finality in your voice, soft but certain, it made Carmen’s jaw shake, emotions bubbling over. He held you, rocking side by side in the kitchen, cries muffled into your shoulder. You held him back, just as tight, cooing shushes over the hums of the appliances, his tears wet on his sweatshirt- your sweatshirt. 

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave a small, teasing smile over your shoulder. 

Carmen had settled into his usual seat at the small kitchen table. He’d sheepishly wiped his tears, letting you dote on him sweetly. Kiss his tears away, soft lips pressing to his wet cheeks, his nose, pulling him in so his lips were on yours, arms still tangled around the other. 

“It’s not, like, gourmet or anything.” You shook your head, ladling out the hot liquid into a bowl. “It is my Nana’s recipe though.” 

“Better than gourmet then?” Carmen’s voice was raspy with dried tears, though he smiled lightly. Bright enough to warm your heart, leave you smiling, plating the grilled cheese. 

“She’d love that you said that.” You grin, setting the steaming bowl and sandwich in front of him. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, a hand running down the back of his neck lovingly. 

He burned at the simplicity, the sweetness of it all. So loving and affectionate freely, without any strings attached. Mikey would’ve loved you, Carmen was so sure of it. 

“This is good.” Carmen nodded, swallowing his spoonful. 

“Yeah?” You grinned proudly, positively beaming. 

Of course it was good, the best fuckin’ thing he’s ever had. It came from you, so it only made sense it was. Carmen didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, reaching over for your hand, squeezing it across the table. “Yeah. Amazing. Just what I needed.” He swallowed another wave of tears, happier this time. “Thank you for, uh, for doin’ this.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” You propped your head in your free hand, a lopsided, lovey smile that warmed Carmen from the inside out. He knew his cheeks were blushing, tingling pink under your affectionate gaze. 

“It’s really good.” Carmen took another spoonful, the warmth spilling down his throat, soothing his chest. “Sorry I came home early and didn’t call. I just… I’ve been out of my mind, y’know? I’m sorry about that too, it’s-it’s not fair to you, and-” 

“-Carm,” You squeezed his hand lightly, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m glad you like it.” You smile sweetly. 

Carmen nodded, leg still shaking under the table. He didn’t let go of your hand, held it in an iron grip like a lifeline and you let him, thumb sweeping over his inked knuckles calmly. 

If Mikey could see him now, he’d be howling in laughter, cackling at Carmen at how “whipped” he was. Mercilessly tease him for being “soft” in a way that only a big brother could. But he knew Mikey would be so proud, so fuckin’ happy that Carmen found you- that Carmen had someone like you.

#the milestones menu #thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto angst #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto ​x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto blurb #anchovy berzatto #richie jerimovich #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #the bear fic #carmen berzatto fic #thebearerblurbs #the bear fx #the bear hulu

[mulderfx]

made a whole pot of pasta i used to love but now i hate it and it’s making me sick

#im only sad i wasted the whole peeled tomatoes. idc about any of the rest of it tbh

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#polls #incognito polls #anonymous #tumblr polls #tumblr users #questions #polls about food #submitted nov 20 #food #tomatoes #vegetables #cooking

[mariclerc]

Dreams and adventures by the sea | Charles Leclerc

Hello, this is the first time I write here and I like the idea of making several stories! English is not my first language so there are some translation errors, if you see one, please let me know!

Synopsis: Where you and Charles are fully enjoying the summer break with your little girl and you discover a recurring dream that he has.

Warning: None, just a little Charles fluff and Charles!dad/family man. I hope you like it <3

Sunbeams dance on the turquoise water, palm trees sway gently in the breeze. Charles Leclerc, tanned and carefree, chases a giggling Mollie along the shore. Her tiny pink swimsuit with flamingos glistens in the sun's rays as she squeals with delight and her tiny footprints disappear into the sand as the two year old girl scampers.

"Catch me, Mollie-mouse! Catch Papa!" He said as he chased after Mollie, they were running in circles.

"Dada! Dada!" She shouted with joy in her voice.

Charles scoops her up, spinning her in the air, the sea shimmering behind them. She throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder while she giggled.

"Careful, you two! Don't turn into sandcastles before lunchtime!" You called to them from under a beach umbrella as you smiled.

Charles grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just practicing our pit stops, amore. We have to be ready for next season."

He plops down beside you on the sand, Mollie wriggling between you like a happy starfish. You carefully brush sand off her damp hair, her tiny fingers clutching at your necklace.

"This is the life, isn't it? No deadlines, no cameras, just family and sunshine." You said with a bright smile on your face, it had been a long time since you two had been so relaxed with your favorite people in the whole world.

"Except maybe less sand in the sandwiches, hmm?" He said while nuzzling your neck.

He winks, then reaches for a mango smoothie. You roll your eyes, but the corners of your lips rise. He's never learned to apply sunscreen, and his olive skin is already freckled with a toasty glow, but he still looks cute, as always.

"You look like a tomato patch, Charles. Don't you ever learn?" You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

"Sun's my natural fuel, amore. Makes me look like a Ferrari on the track, don't you think?" He said while shrugging his shoulders.

Mollie reaches for your smoothie, her tiny hand leaving a sticky trail. You laugh, handing her a small sip of your smoothie.

"Just don't blame me when you're peeling like a banana tomorrow."

"Wouldn't trade this sunburn for anything, not even a podium finish." He said with a smile, probably the most sincere smile you've ever seen.

He pulls you close, your skin cool against his heat. Mollie snuggles between you, her eyelids heavy with the sun and the sea. You watch the waves roll in, the sound like a lullaby.

"This is the best kind of winning, isn't it? Just being here, with you, with her."

"The only trophy I need." He said as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

He rests his head on your shoulder, and you close your eyes, breathing in the salty air, the warmth of the sun, the tiny, rhythmic pulse of your daughter's heart against your chest. In this moment, the world shrinks to just this small patch of paradise, a bubble of love and laughter, and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Back on the yacht, the sun dips lower, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and pink. Mollie, tired from her beach adventures, yawns and snuggles into Charles' arms. He bounces her gently, singing a soft lullaby that sends shivers down your spine.

"She's out like a light. All that beach air must be exhausting." You smiled as you looked at them.

"Don't worry, amore. We'll have plenty of time for adventures tomorrow. Tonight, it's just you and me." He said in a low voice so as not to wake her.

He winks, his eyes glinting with a familiar spark. You laugh, your heart skipping a beat each time he winks at you.

"And don't think about asking me to help with sunscreen again. You're on your own, tomato boy." You said jokingly.

"Hey! I resemble that remark. Besides, your touch is like magic SPF, amore. Keeps my skin smooth and my engine purring." He pretended to be offended by your words, but then he giggled like a teenage boy.

He pulls you close, your lips meeting in a kiss as sweet as the mango smoothie. The fire crackles on the deck, its warm glow illuminating your faces. The ocean laps against the hull, a gentle rhythm that lulls you into a world of your own.

"I love this, Charles. Just being here, with you and Mollie, although she is asleep, on the open sea. It feels like we're the only two people in the world." Did you whisper delicately.

"We are, chérie. We definitely are." He kissed your forehead with such care.

He leans back, his gaze sweeping across the vast expanse of water. He usually has a vacant look when he is very lost in thought or when he is thinking about something quite deep.

"You know, sometimes I dream about what it would be like to leave all this behind. The racing, the pressure, the fame..." he let out a soft sigh "You know, spending my days with you two without worrying if you're okay while I'm on the other side of the world."

"And become a beach bum? I'm not sure Mollie would appreciate the sand in her toys." You raised an eyebrow as you spoke and giggled slightly.

"No, no, darling, something simpler, you know sweetie... Just a small house by the sea, maybe a little vineyard...a family to raise. I know we've talked about this before, but I'd like to experience that quiet life with you." He said chuckling.

You have had this conversation a couple of times, especially the time you got pregnant, at that time you were 23 and he was 24 and you both had no idea what to do, you were very afraid. He at that time proposed the idea of leaving his racing career behind and focusing purely on you and Mollie, you obviously told him no, since one of his dreams was always, apart from having a family of his own, was to be a racing driver and leave a mark on the sport. You, for your part, when you told your parents that you were expecting Charles's baby, it was perhaps the worst thing you would have said to them, They did not take the news kindly and even told you to abort the baby, but obviously, that was not in your plans, you also wanted a family with Charles, he was always the ideal person for you. Since that exchange of opinions between your parents and you, they never spoke to you again and you did the same and honestly, it was better that way for you and your family.

Now looking back, you didn't regret that decision, on the contrary, you were grateful that it was like that since you knew how judgmental your parents are and how much they criticized you for the slightest, Charles could also experience that the times he went to visit you at your parents' house, they were not very nice to him, it doesn't matter if you had been dating for a long time.

He looks at you, his eyes full of longing. You reach out, tracing the lines of his pretty sun-kissed face. He gives you a small smile, the cutest thing you've ever seen, of course... Aside from your little Mollie.

"We already have that, Charles. We have everything we need my baby."

"Everything except maybe a little more time. Maybe a little less asphalt and a little more sand." He said as he pulled you closer to him.

He kisses you again, this time a slow, burning kiss that speaks volumes of unspoken dreams and shared desires. In that moment, you see a glimpse of the man behind the racing helmet, the boy who yearns for simple things, for a life built on love and laughter. The boy you fell in love with since you were 18 and the one who ensures the safety of his girls.

"Maybe you're right, Charles. Maybe next season, we'll find a different kind of track to conquer. One that leads us back to this very spot, with the sun on our skin and the sea in our hearts." You smiled at him.

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a promise of forever. You know, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The open sea is not just a backdrop, it's a symbol of endless possibilities, a life waiting to be written, together as a family.

And as the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, you raise your glass to the future, a future painted with the colors of love, laughter, and the endless horizon.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles x reader #charles x mom #formula one x reader

[nobrashfestivity]

24 Hour Red Sauce

Since I am making this right now as I type, I thought I would share one of my sauce recipes. The long cooking time may seem daunting but that's also what makes it difficult to mess up. There are probably typos and I never before have written this down but here it is.

24 hour red sauce

People ask me sometimes “How did you make this sauce?” and I usually say something like, “Well, I cook it a really long time.” But now I will share, roughly, how I do make that sauce.

In spite of my part-Italian family, This is my recipe not a family one. My mother and Italian grandmother showed me how to make sauce but frankly, theirs was not that great. Okay, serviceable, not amazing. Perhaps, like many people I learned to cook at an early age because I didn’t like other people’s food. I went to one of those terrible schools where they would make you eat what they gave you. I’m stubborn and refused their overtures, and as I went forth in life I said no to many things. and thus never developed a taste for them. I’m basically the opposite of Anthony Bourdain.

Because I am a vegetarian, I would bring Lasagna or the like to holiday meals for friends and family and over time I endeavored to make a sauce that would stand up in lasagna, stuffed shells or other sauce killers. I make other sauces but this is the favorite of my friends because, I think, the long cooking time makes for a complex flavor.

I’m not the New York times, so this is a little rough in terms of measurements but the beauty of red sauce is that you taste as you go.

-7 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (I use Tuscan olive oil such as Vetrice for critical stuff but it can be waste of money in long cooking sauce. Any good olive oil with a little bite will work)

-2 28 oz cans of Bianco DiNapoli crushed tomatoes. (you can also use Sam merican, Mutti or what have you, but I like these best)

- 14 ounce Bianco DiNapoli whole tomatoes (opinions differ on crushed vs whole, I use a mix)

-25-35 cloves fresh garlic, finely chopped

-½ to 3/4 oz fresh basil leaves, chopped (this depends on how many stems you get and how pungent the basil is)

-Vegetable broth (this will add salt, if you want less salt use low sodium broth. If you’re not a vegetarian, you can use beef or chicken broth too).

-Full bodied red wine, like Cabernet, Merlot or Rojas. Don’t break the bank but don’t use something disgusting, you’re eating this.

-1 dried bay leaf (yes you have to)

-¾ teaspoon crushed red pepper (I use a whole teaspoon actually)

-½ teaspoon coarse ground black pepper

-1 medium to large sweet onion

Get a big sauce pan because red sauce will splatter as cook it and it's easier if that doesn’t end up on your stove.

Chop the whole tomatoes (I do this by hand but you can use a food processor) set aside in a bowl.

Under low heat, put the olive oil in and add the garlic and the red pepper, saute a little until the garlic becomes a little glassy.

Add the crushed and chopped whole tomatoes, increase the heat to medium. Set aside the cans.

Peel your onion (you can use two if they are small) and chop it in half. Now look where the sauce comes up to in your cooking pot. Make a little mark (obviously on the outside) of your pot or just wing it.

Fill one empty can half way (14 oz) with vegetable broth and slosh it around to get the remaining tomatoes out of it. Add the black pepper and bay leaf and pour into the sauce.

Fill the other empty can half way with red wine (also 14 oz), a Cabernet is good here, slosh it around and add to the sauce. Now you have wasted nothing except your life cooking this sauce.

Add the two halves of your onion to the sauce. Stir in about half the chopped basil.

Cover the sauce with a lid with a hole in it or half cover it allowing some steam out and turn the stove way down below a simmer. You should even being seeing regular bubbles I the sauce at first and they shouldn’t be appearing rapidly ever.

Every hour tell Michael to stir the sauce (or do it yourself)

Pour a glass of wine and drink it.

Cook it half covered for 4-6 hours on as low heat as possible. You should see occasional bubbles. If the cooked sauce falls below the line you made on your cooking pot, you’re cooking it too fast, but no matter, if that happens, add a cup of 1/3 wine, 1/3 water and 1/3 broth and stir it in. Taste the sauce, it should be pretty good.

Go to bed and out the sauce in the ice box (My grandmother said Ice Box, refrigerator is what it means).

When you get back up in the afternoon (if you get up early, who even are you) uncover the sauce and put it back on low heat simmering or below. Add another two cups of the wine-broth-water mixture and cook for another 5-8 hours. Remember to stir.

When the sauce tastes amazing and you can’t stop tasting it, remove the onions and bay leaf and throw them away. Turn the stove off. Add the rest of your fresh basil and stir it in. You don’t have to use all the basil but basil is not a bad thing. Let the sauce cool for at least an hour. Serve or store. Drink the remaining wine.

It’s actually difficult to ruin this sauce if you follow these guiding principles-

1- You want roughly the same amount of sauce you started with before you added the liquids (wine, water and broth). So you want to see about 50-65 oz of finished sauce depending on how thick you like it.

2- Cooking the onions provides the sweetness to take the acidity out of the sauce, if it’s not sweet enough to can add another onion but it should all even out with more cooking. More sugar will be released from the onions over time. The sauce should be spicy and somewhat strong and acidic but also smooth and flavorful. Add more of your liquids if the sauce is too thick, cook more if it’s too thin. Don’t use sugar.

3- The red wine is a big flavor in this, the alcohol will cook off but flavor is part of the dynamic. Sicilians will tell you to use paste, but that’s a different sauce.

4- I cook this sauce for as long as 24 hours but you don’t have to to make it good. It depends a lot on how high your heat is, how much liquid you use etc. but I would recommend no less than 7 hours of cooking. Otherwise the magic doesn’t happen.

5- Make this often, tweak to your taste, you will return to it each time affirming its power to sustain you in a harsh and unkind world.

#recipe #red sauce #no brash festivity #feel free to ask me questions on this

[artaxlivs]

Let Me Be Your Man (I want to hold your hand)

CW: none * Rating: Mature (frottage) * Pairing: Steve/Eddie * Prompt: Mixtape

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!” Steve yells when the pounding on his door gains momentum to add to its volume. Grumbling, he peeks out the side window and sees one of the kid’s bikes thrown down in his lawn. Little assholes. 

When he yanks the door open, Mike Wheeler is just raising his fist to pound it against the door again. “I need your help.” His face is red and sweaty with exertion as he shoves past Steve into the house. 

Immediately, Steve reaches into the umbrella stand and pulls out the only thing in it - his nail bat. “What’s happening?” He asks, rounding toward Mike, “Why didn’t you radio or call? What is it? Vecna? Jocks? Where’s everyone else?”

Mike skids to a halt and stares at Steve incredulously. “What? No. Put your bat away, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes. “I need your help.”

Relaxing just a small amount, Steve lets the top of the bat rest on the entryway floor. He probably looks as confused as he feels. “What? Why are you saying it like that? What kind of help?”

Mike huffs, throws his hands up and spins on his heel, stalking into the kitchen. Before Steve follows, he counts to ten, puts his bat away and curses the day he started dating Nancy Wheeler. Always the goddamn babysitter.

At the breakfast counter, Mike is deflating, shoulders drooping in what looks like defeat, chin braced in one hand, elbow pressed against the cool tile. With the other hand he’s tracing the lines of grout between the tiles.

On a whim, Steve detours to the fridge, loading up his arms with the makings for sandwiches. Back at the counter, he pulls out four slices of Wonderbread. “So - what brings you to my door?” He shakes the mayo and Mike nods so he starts to slather it on two of the pieces. Mike nods again to the mustard so Steve slathers that on the other two. Giving Mike the time to gather his thoughts.

“Um, well…I, uh, I like someone.” Mike sighs, looking down at the tile where he’s still tracing the lines. 

Someone not a girl. Someone. Will. It’s gotta be Will. Steve has seen the way that they both look at each other when the other isn’t looking. He and Robin have talked about it, about which one to approach first to let them into their elite Hawkins Gay Club which currently has two members. Not one and a half, Robin. Being bisexual still means he’s a whole gay. Dang it.

“Cheese?” Steve asks, peeling his own out of the Kraft plastic wrap. When Mike nods, Steve pulls out a second one for him. “Turkey or ham?” He pops open both and proceeds to put both on his own sandwich.

“Both, please.” Mike says and then jumps down, well, steps down because his gangly legs are much longer now. He goes over and grabs the salt and pepper from the back of the stove lip and sprinkles some of each on his, raises an eyebrow and when Steve nods, he sprinkles them on Steve’s as well.

Fancy.

“You want lettuce and tomato?” Steve says, slicing his own. Mike does not, he does go into the pantry and grab a bag of chips though because the kids are way too comfortable in Steve’s house apparently. 

“I need your help making a mixtape.” Mike says as sits back down.

Steve frowns. “Why are you here for a mixtape and not at Eddie’s? He’s the music guy.” And really - that’s a no brainer.

Groaning, Mike flops his head down his folded arms on the counter, narrowly missing the bag of chips. “Eddie cannot be trusted to make mixtapes. I was there for four hours, Steve. FOUR HOURS. And all I got was a lesson on ‘real metal versus sell out metal.’” He groans again. “He was so excited to help me but then we just recorded an hour of Black Sabbath songs. W- this person doesn’t even like metal!”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Steve gives Mike an encouraging smile as he cuts their sandwiches in half diagonally. Who cuts sandwiches across the middle? Vecna probably. Monster. “Mixtapes aren’t just about your favorite songs or even their favorite songs. It’s songs that you want to share with them and songs that remind you of them. And, of course, songs that tell them how you feel about them.” He plates both sandwiches and slides Mike’s across the bar. “It helps to know who the person is because mixtapes should be personalized but as long as you know their music, I can probably help you.”

Chewing the first bite slowly, Mike nods like he’s agreeing or gearing up to talk. Steve grabs them each a soda out of the fridge, sliding Mike’s over and taking the bag of chips. “My sister really loved the one you made for her. Well,” He reaches into the chip bag and pulls out a handful before pushing the bag toward Steve, “she still does actually. She plays it sometimes.”

Steve stops with his hand half inside the bag, “She does?”

“Yeaaaah.” Mike drags it out, putting a chip in his mouth but then talking around it. “She said it was the tape that made her realize she needed to break up with you.” Steve makes a little grunt of outrage but Mike pushes through, waving his hand to stop Steve from interrupting. “No, no, she loves that tape. Seriously. She said that listening to it made her realize that you’re the kind of guy who loves forever. But that you loved this girl she made up, she was pretending to be, even though she knew she’d never be that girl again…not after…you know.” He shrugs his bony shoulders and looks down at the counter again.

Without thinking about it, Steve’s eyes flick up to look out of the kitchen window where he can see the corner of the pool. He nods, saying dejectedly, “Yeah, I get that.” 

“And sometimes, when Jonathan is being Jonathan, she listens to it to remind her that you saw her as strong and brave - that’s what she said, strong and brave - before she even saw herself that way.” Mike opens his sandwich and puts down a layer of chips on top of the meat, squishing the top slice of bread back down before taking a bite. These kids are such weirdos. With his mouth full, he continues, “She said it reminds her that she doesn’t need Jonathon. Or any man. That she won’t settle for a life she doesn’t want. Not even for a guy like you.”

“Huh.” Steve replies, taking another bite of his own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “A guy like me?” 

Rolling his eyes, Mike makes a sound like he’s tasted something bad and says, “Yeah, don’t get a big head. You still suck.”

Steve snorts. The audacity of this kid is truly admirable. He’s still not sure that makes him feel better but Nancy deserves to get what she wants so he can be happy for her. Even if his tape is part of what drove her away. He shakes it off, though, “Okay, so what type of music does this person like?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening going through the tapes and albums Steve has and making a list of the ones that Mike has that he thinks might work. Then they pair them down to make an album that flows, “like a story” Steve tells him. The playlist has a song by Bowie because really every playlist should. One from The Smiths because Steve knows Will loves them even though he doesn’t mention that part to Mike. Mike picks the one metal song that Eddie suggested that he thought made sense, they all sound alike to Steve so he doesn’t pay attention to which one it is. The others are sprinkles of songs both boys have shared memories about.

“It’s really the last song that matters,” he tells Mike. “You’ve laid the groundwork for blending your stories together and that last song is the one you have to be brave with. The words matter. That’s the song where you say what you wanna say. Even if it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done.”

Mike nods slowly, like he’s really focusing on the meaning behind Steve’s words.

The last song, after the Mike and Will songs, after it’s clear that this is a story of the two of them together , is “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” by the Beatles. It’s the only song like it on the whole tape so it stands out clearly. It’s a love song without being slow and romantic. It’s honest. And it says, “let me be your man.” So there are no wrong pronouns. Again, Steve doesn’t mention it. 

After running by the Wheeler’s to pick up a few of Mike’s tapes, they pull by the trailer park and Mike runs in to borrow the one that Eddie suggested. At the trailer door, Eddie looks over at Steve waiting in his car and gives him a head nod. Smiling fondly, Steve wonders if those two know how dorky they look in their matching Hellfire shirts and cut off jeans, if Eddie is aware that Mike is trying very hard to be as cool as he thinks Eddie is. Probably not. Eddie is pretty oblivious. 

Case in point, Steve’s been hitting on him for weeks with not a single sign that Eddie is aware of it at all.

Maybe Steve should make him a mixtape. He gives a little finger wave that Eddie returns, looking thoughtful as Mike lopes back to the car with his goofily long arms and legs flailing and throws himself into the passenger seat. Steve backs out and drives away, watching Eddie get smaller and smaller in the rearview.

Steve picks them up burgers on the way back to his house and then they lay on his floor next to his big fancy stereo, recording the songs in order, from tape to tape. When they get to the Beatles song, Steve makes an excuse about cleaning up the kitchen and leaves Mike with the tape insert and a pen. 

When he comes back, Mike’s folding a piece of notebook paper and tucking it inside the case as well. He must have had a lot to say. His eyes are a little red rimmed but Steve pretends not to notice of course.

In the Wheeler driveway, after he helps Mike dislodge his bike from where they half tucked it into the Bimmer trunk and just let the lid sit on it because it doesn’t actually fit all the way, Steve leans against the car with his arms and ankles crossed, trying to look as relaxed as he can. He wants to say something, let Mike know he’s a safe person to talk to. That they’re alike. He’s not sure how to without scaring him, though.

“Uh…thanks for this, man.” Mike snorts a laugh and gives that snotty side smile of his, “Maybe Dustin’s right about you.”

Steve grins, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, “You don’t totally suck.” But then he grins back all cocksure like the almost sixteen year old that he is.

Scoffing, Steve kicks out and hits one of Mike’s bike tires with his shoe, “Thanks, asshole.” Pushing off the car, he starts to turn away but then, “Hey, if it’s who I think it is, you can talk to me - I…I get it. Understand?” He makes sure he catches Mike’s eye so the kid can’t look down and away like he usually does. Steve sees the flash of fear but it’s quickly replaced with hope, maybe even trust.

Mike just nods and Steve gets out of there before he embarrasses the poor kid again. On his drive home, he rolls the windows down, turns his car radio up too loud and sings along, uncaring that he’s probably out of tune. 

Steve’s been home for maybe an hour when someone knocks on his door again. There’s less noise this time but it’s still just solid pounding without giving him the chance to get to the door. Everyone he knows is an asshole apparently.

“Alright, alright, keep it in your–” He yanks open the door and finds Eddie standing there still wearing his ripped cutoffs and his Hellfire shirt. Well, the version two that he designed for the club when he handed it down after graduation. “-pants.”

Eddie smiles, sly and flirty, “You sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “What are you gonna do when I call your bluff someday?” Because although Steve has been honestly flirting with Eddie, Eddie’s just been over the top hitting on Steve with innuendos and double entendres that don’t mean anything serious. Well, Steve can’t tell if they mean anything serious at least.

Which is part of why Steve hasn’t at least tried to make a move.

“We’ll see when that day comes I guess.” Eddie leans in and taps on Steve’s chest with the tip of his pointer finger. “I made you something Big Boy.”

There’s a circle of burning fire in the spot where Eddie’s finger was. His touches always seem to leave flames in their wake. Steve wonders if Eddie feels them, too “Is it dinner? Because I already ate with Baby Wheeler.”

“Nope.” Eddie drags out the “p” making a popping sound. “Baby Wheeler mentioned you were helping him with his mixtape - said you were some kind of expert.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Steve nods, admitting, “I don’t know about expert. Sorry, though, didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“No, no, it’s cool.” Eddie leans his shoulder against the door jamb which is weird because he’s usually pushed past Steve to make himself at home by this point. Or Steve has invited him in. But they’re just standing here in the open doorway. “Besides - Wheeler informed me that I suck at mixtapes. Something about telling a story and not shoving metal down people’s throats.”

Steve crosses his arms defensively, “Don’t take it personally. You’re great at dragon stories. Gotta leave something for the rest of us to be good at.” He’s looking down so he misses the expression that accompanies the scoff Eddie gives but it sounds exasperated.

“Well.” Eddie says, bringing Steve’s eyes back up to him as he pulls a cassette tape out of his vest pocket. “Anyway, here.”

It shouldn’t make him feel the way it does. But it does. Steve’s heart flutters and his stomach swoops and the finger that brushes Eddie’s as he takes the tape feels like it’s charged with lightning. He’s still not sure, though, it could be that kind or it could just be Eddie trying to prove that metal is the best.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “You made me a mixtape?” And the hopefulness in his voice is as clear as day. But then it’s met with a look in Eddie’s eyes - fear, denial, like he wants to take it back, so Steve pivots, teasing, “Is it an hour of metal? Did you do a voice over?”

Rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his vest pockets, Eddie hisses, “No. Jerk.”

After a moment of indecision, Steve asks hesitantly, “Do you..do you wanna listen to it together?”

There’s fear in Eddie’s eyes again and he takes a wary step back, “Uh - no. No, that wouldn’t be a great idea.” He swings his arms, snapping and bringing the flat of one hand against the curled first of the other before pointing finger guns at Steve. It’s so horribly awkward that Steve is filled with hope again. “Uh, yeah, it’s, um, it’s just for you, man.” He’s clearly nervous and waves of anxious energy are almost rolling off of him as he spins and walks away, throwing a confident, “See ya Harrington!” over his shoulder but Steve’s not fooled at all. 

“Oh you will, Munson.” Steve calls after him, slow smile growing when Eddie’s shoulder’s visibly hunch before he leaps into his van and pulls away, tires practically squealing with the force of him gunning it. 

Huh. Interesting.

Closing the door, Steve goes over to the phone on the entryway table where he leaves his keys and Family Video vest every night. He dials and after two rings, Robin picks up, “Thank you for calling Family-oh damn it, I mean, hello?”

“You’re such a mess.” Steve snorts.

“Fuck you Harrington, you’re such a mess!” She whisper shouts, because if her dad hears her cussing, she'll be grounded until she leaves for college.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.” Steve assures her. “But listen - Mike came over earlier–”

“Mike?!” She actually shouts this time. “Is there a Code Red? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?” There’s the distinct sound of her rolling off of her bed and scrambling for shoes or clothes.

“Calm down, you ninny.” He sighs. “We are scarily alike.”

“Duh.” Then she makes an oof sound as she flops back onto her bed.

“I thought the same thing because when does Mike ever willingly talk to me?” 

“Like, never. Unless it’s to make fun of you – ohhh wait, did he come to talk about Will?” She squees. “Did the baby gay come to get advice from his babysitter?”

Steve laughs, switching the phone to his other ear and sitting down on the carpeted stairs. He should have made this call from his bedroom where he could have laid on his bed, too late now. “Sort of? He asked for my help making a mixtape for ‘someone’ but didn’t tell me who and I didn’t out him by asking but when I dropped him off at home, I hinted that I knew and he could talk to me.”

“Ohhhh Steve, that’s so adorable. If I remotely liked any of your children, I’d be touched.” She straight out lies because they all know she adores Max like a little partner in crime. “Why you though? Why not Eddie?”

“That’s what I said!” He laughs and then dives into telling her the whole story. Eddie’s metal sell out lesson, the hours of pouring over music, Nancy’s love of his mixtape that he made for her back in high school. She comments and laughs at all the right places because they are of one mind, as always. Then though, then, he drops the bomb.

“So, the reason I’m calling is because Eddie showed up at my door. With a mixtape. For me. And he declined my offer to listen to it together.” Steve twists the cord around his finger, waiting until the skin turns red before unwinding it.

“Oh my god! What’s on it?” She shouts, “And why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I don’t know what’s on it. I haven’t listened to it yet.”

“Why not, you dingus?!” Robin screeches then she adds in a subdued tone, “Do you think…?” 

In an equally subdued tone he replies, “I don’t know. I think that’s why I called you first. I’m a little scared to get my hopes up.”

She makes a little noise of agreement. She’s been there.

“And I just…I’m not his type at all. And I know that. But he’s so…” Steve sighs and lays back on the stairs awkwardly, it’s not comfortable at all but it’s keeping him focused. “He’s loud and brash and annoying and I like that because I’m not. But he’s also sweet and squishy and brave and so fucking funny. Argh.”

“And you already got your hopes up when he dropped it off and you don’t want to be disappointed?” Robin asks gently because she really does know him so well.

“Yeah,” he tells her in a hushed voice. “His face when he handed it over, Rob. He was nervous. And then he practically ran away.”

“Well, idiot, you won’t know until you listen.” She says matter-of-factly and he can almost hear her brushing off her hands and standing up. “Buck up. You want me to come over and listen to it with you?”

“Nah. I want to hear it the first time on my own.” That way he can cry before he has to face her if that’s where this is going. “I’ll call you if I need you, though, k?”

“You know I’m always here for you.”

He does.

After they hang up, Steve doesn’t waste anymore time. He doesn’t want to give himself any time to think so he heads into the living room and pops it into the tape deck he and Mike had just recorded ‘someone’s’ tape on. Laying back on the floor he lets the first song play. 

He doesn’t recognize the first chords but the recording itself is kinda fuzzy, like it’s a live version of something. It’s an acoustic guitar, slow but building. When the voice comes in, Steve sits up and turns toward the speaker. It’s Eddie.

I was always trapped. Drowning in this small town, Dragged down by small minds To the bottom of the lake. Spent most of my days  on the run from myself. Running from the me I wasn’t ready to be. Trapped in this small town  with these small minds. That is, until you. Until there was you. You stood your ground. Stood up for mine, too. And I never ran as fast  as I did to you.

There’s a guitar break. It’s beautiful, simple, a slow melody that builds with Eddie’s voice almost trembling when it comes back in.

You’re the boy The boy who stops the world. Stops it from spinning Out of my reach. I want to run to you. But we’re stuck in this town With these small minds, That drag us down. I just wanna be free Free to love you. I only wanna run If you’ll catch me.  In this small town In this small town

The song fades out and there’s the sound of Eddie’s breathing, it catches like he’s going to say something but then exhales and the recording clicks off. Steve speeds through the tape and flips it over and does the same to the other side. The rest of it is empty. He plays the song again. Listening with his eyes closed this time.

Then he jumps up, ejects the tape, grabs his keys and fumbles with the lock on the way out. He doesn’t let himself think. Just plays the song over and over for the fifteen minute drive to the trailer park. All the lights in the trailer are on and the music in Eddie’s room is blaring loud enough that Steve can hear it in his car with his own music still on.

He still doesn’t stop to think, just rushes out of the car and up the steps to pound on the door and when Eddie opens it with wide eyes and a healthy dose of fear on his face, Steve thinks for a second that he should say something, confirm that it’s a song written for him - about them both - but he can’t. Or he’ll chicken out. 

So, instead, he just steps into the trailer, forcing Eddie to take a step back, pushes the door shut behind him and whispers, “Too many small minds out there.” And kisses Eddie. 

It’s a good kiss too. Steve cradles Eddie’s head and tilts him just enough that he can get the perfect angle to …what’s the word in all those trashy books? Ravish. Steve ravishes Eddie’s mouth. It’s not sweet, it’s desperate and filled with need and when he finally lets go, Eddie’ lips are swollen and kiss bitten.

“I hope that song was telling me you like me or this is going to be a very awkward conversation.” Steve says when Eddie’s eyes flutter open.

“I’d have made you a whole mixtape but Wheeler told me this afternoon that the final song is the one that really matters.” Eddie grins then, wide and impish, swooping in to catch Steve’s mouth with his own. When he comes up for air, he whispers, “Besides, where was I gonna get an hour of ABBA songs?”

Growling, Steve walks Eddie backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he sits. “I’m more of a Springsteen fan, actually.” He says as he climbs into Eddie’s lap and swoops down for a kiss.

It’s frenzied and graceless, like the two desperate kids they still are. Neither of them old enough to buy a six pack of beer and both overflowing with the sexual tension they’ve built up between them. Steve can’t seem to stop kissing Eddie long enough to do anything more than grind himself down against Eddie’s lap. 

Luckily, Steve’s been in his old basketball shorts all day and Eddie changed into sweats sometime after he’d gotten home so there’s nothing but a few layers of cotton between their rock hard boners. 

Jesus, it feels like the first time Steve dry humped with some girl back in freshman year. But like, a thousand times better. Not just because they both have dicks but because it’s Eddie .

He rolls his hips, brushing their aforementioned dicks together and swallows Eddie’s groan. Eddie’s hands are on Steve’s hips, guiding him as he rolls them, flexing his hands around the softness there. When Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hands slip around and squeeze his ass, cupping it and helping him press their laps together. One of them whines as their dicks slot together just right and they both thrust against each other. 

“Stevie, fuck. Yes,” Eddie swears, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Then his tongue is back in Steve’s mouth, sliding along Steve’s, sucking on his bottom lip. He licks and nips and bites his way down Steve’s throat, probably leaving bruises and Steve should care about that but he doesn’t.

“Eddie, Eddie - I need,” It’s too fast, Steve knows he can last so much longer than this but he can’t seem to slow down. “Oh, god.”

“What, Stevie?” Eddie manages between grunts as they rut against each other desperately, “What do you need?”

Oh god, he’s almost there, Steve feels the warmth pooling in his belly, the muscles in his legs straining, the droplets of precome sticking to his underwear and Eddie’s hard cock pushing against the length of his own as he cries, “You, fuck, just you.” And then he comes, arching and fucking against Eddie. One hand buried in the hair at Eddie’s nape and the other digging his fingernails into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pulls Steve tight to his chest, one hand around his back, holding Steve close while he comes. Eddie’s still thrusting against Steve, rolling and pressing with his hips until he, too, arches and comes with a hoarse shout.

When Eddie relaxes back against the couch, Steve collapses in his lap, head resting on Eddie's shoulder, breath hot against his collarbone. Both fucked out and exhausted.

Minutes later, once the aftershocks have subsided for both of them and Steve’s sweaty forehead is pressed into the side of Eddie’s sweaty neck, Steve admits, “Fine, I like ABBA but who doesn’t? Those songs are catchy.”

Eddie snorts a laugh out. Then, it's a little gross, but they both start laughing and have to peel their damp crotches away from each other. Totally worth it, though, when Eddie brings Steve's hand up to his mouth, kissing the palm before he threads their fingers together so he can hold Steve's hand.

Thanks to @thefreakandthehair for hosting this challenge! It was super fun and I'm so glad I actually made it in under the deadline. Skin of my teeth!

Here's the Ao3 link if you want to drop me some love there - comments make my brain buzz and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the perfect Mike/Will or Steve/Eddie mixtape playlist!

#lexssummerfanworkschallenge #spicysix #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #baby gays #mixtape #the beatles are forever #always the goddamn babysitter #for a good reason though

[petermorwood]

I COULD MURDER A CURRY... Well, at least commit a certain amount of violence on one.

In other words, I wanted something curry-ish the other day without taking much trouble over it, so I threw this together from what was in the cupboard, fridge and freezer.

(There was rather less than I expected. That's been fixed.)

When I discovered we had no lamb or chicken it ended up as unintended vegetarian, and can as easily become vegan; just leave out the ghee. If my result is anything to go by, all variations will taste great.

NB #1, there's no salt; the preserved lemon has plenty.

NB #2, metric measurements are correct, Imperial are approximate, but this whole recipe was pretty vague from start to finish, so wing it.

That's what I did. For instance, preserved lemon is Moroccan not Indian, yet it worked just fine.

Lemon and lime lentil curry

Ingredients

1 tablespoon ghee or coconut oil (I used a 50-50 combination)

2 onions peeled and chopped fine

2 tablespoon hot curry powder

1 tablespoon mild curry powder (or 1 hot / 2 mild if preferred)

6 cloves of garlic peeled and chopped fine

2 400g / 14oz tins chopped tomatoes in juice

1 400g / 14oz tin kidney beans, drained and rinsed

250 g / 1 cup red lentils

250 g / 1 cup each of red, green, and yellow peppers, sliced and coarsely chopped (optional; we had them in the freezer)

2 heaped tablespoons lime pickle, chopped fine (hot or mild as preferred; Patak brand is good. I used home-made hot)

2 heaped tablespoons preserved lemon, chopped fine (again, I used home-made) *

1 tablespoon garam masala

* If you can't source preserved lemons, use the zest and juice of at least one fresh lemon (two might be better). If you've only got bottled lemon juice, add 125ml / 1/2 cup of it when the tomatoes go in.

Method

Heat your preferred cooking fat in a pan (a wok is even better), add the chopped onions, and cook until soft and translucent. If desired, cook until starting to brown (this may take up to 45 minutes).

Push the onions to one side, allow the fat to flow into the centre of the pan, add the dry spices, combine well with the fat and cook for about five minutes.

Add the garlic and cook for a further five minutes.

Add the kidney beans and lentils to this mixture, stir well, add the peppers, lime pickle and preserved lemon, and stir again.

Add the chopped tomatoes, and one tomato-tin full of water. (Also add the lemon juice (and zest), if that's what you're using instead of preserved lemons.)

Stir well, turn the heat right down, cover, and simmer for about 30 to 45 minutes. (This is where I'd have added 2 cubed chicken breasts, if I'd had them).

Check occasionally to ensure nothing is sticking, adding a little water if required. Taste during this process, and adjust the seasoning. (Which means, if you're using fresh lemon or bottled lemon juice, this is when to add some salt.)

When the lentils are done (I like them a little al dente), sprinkle on 1 tablespoon garam masala, stir it in then serve.

Accompany with Basmati rice, or chapatis (flour tortillas / wraps will do just fine), or naan bread, or any combination of these. I did a mix of 1/3 brown Basmati / 2/3 white Basmati.

@dduane pointed out that what with the carbs, protein, dietary fibre etc., this is also quite healthy. That's an unexpected bonus for something I just thought was no trouble to make, tasted good...

And didn't involve committing even a minor felony, though a slice of apple tort to follow would have been nice... :->

#food and drink #indian food #curry #vegetarian curry #lentils #I COULD MURDER A CURRY #GNU Terry Pratchett

[lowspoonsgourmet]

Lets talk about potatoes.

They are a south american tuber which has hundreds of cultivars suited for multiple climates and elevations. It is part of the nightshade family and closely enough related to tomatoes that you can splice a tomato plant onto a potato stalk and it will grow.

They are also nutrient dense and can be cooked by simply boiling them or baking them whole if one has to. Absolutely minimal prep, you dont even need to peel them. Top them with dairy or other things to round out their nutrition profiles. Can be cooked in more complex ways as energy and ability allow. Theres thousands of ways to prepare them.

Were I to travel to a new planet and had to pick one plant crop to start out with? Thats what I would pick. You can get a high calorie yield out of a small plot of land.

Fellow spoonies, consider the potato.

#potatoes #low spoons cooking

[redgoldtomatoesfromeurope]

Most people associate canned tomatoes with red gold whole peeled tomatoes. They are blanched in hot water for a few seconds, peeled, stuffed into jars, covered, and boiled to seal the jars. It is pointless to sugarcoat it: the process is time-consuming and inconvenient. However, no special skills are required. Anyone with an abundance of ripe tomatoes and the necessary canning equipment can do it, and whole tomatoes are a great way to get started.

#Red Gold Whole Peeled Tomatoes