(no subject)

New fic!

I always post on a Sunday. Why, god, why.

This was actually a collection of flashback-interludes scattered throughout a totally different fic, but as they proved completely irrelevant to the rest of the plot I culled them out and polished them up into a fic of their very own. There is death and sexual metaphor and ice cream and also lots of Dickinson.

Title: It Was Not Death, For I Stood Up
Rating: PG
Summary: In the months leading up to Suzie's suicide, Ianto comes under her wing and learns from her example.

(no subject)

Shallots in an apple pie. Sweet and savoury! Y/N?

I mean I'm thinking N, big time, but your opinions sought! It could be good with some cheddar mixed in, maybe. The apples are Granny Smiths, good for baking!

I've taken to giving myself Saturdays off, because I need at least one day to detox from the week, especially a week like this. Sundays, however, it's all domestic-go. This morning I have done the laundry, taken the trash out, run the Roomba (EVERYBODY ROOMBA), cleaned off the couch and desk, and baked challah rolls. This afternoon it's apple tarts and crabless rangoon. There will be shallots in the rangoon, yes, precious. Possibly some sweet apple rangoon, we shall see.

I cleaned the Roomba's brush for the first time -- it needs it every 3-5 roombaings -- which is messy work but not more than five minutes' worth; they give you a little tool with a safe-razor on one side for slicing the lint away and a comb for pulling it off the bristles. Apparently in its peregrinations at R's it picked up a dryer sheet (can't have been here; I don't use them) and neatly wrapped it around one end of the brush. All better now, however.

I also assembled the shelf for the bathroom and what would have been the TV stand, except that it works way better as a coffee table. Plus my television weighs 30 pounds and the Ikea TV stand apparently only holds 20. All my furniture is very...skeletal, all mesh and black steel. I like it. In combination with the Roomba it gives the slight impression of living on a spaceship, especially when one takes into account the metallic silver paint on the radiators and the super-futuristic digital antenna. Add in the gorgeous wrought-iron candle sconces I got for my birthday and the various oddments I use for candleholders on the windowsill, and it's a very subtle, uncluttered form of steampunk. Not quite as Victorian as most would be, but a nice mix of primitive and sleek.

Next up: MOAR POSTER FRAMES. Disposable income is...really, really nice.

(no subject)

What I done did:

I read through a bunch of recipes for apple pie and apple tarts, and pondered and considered, and then decided in the grand tradition of chefs everywhere to JFWI*.

I melted some butter and sauteed half of the fine-diced apples in it until they were soft, then added sugar, stirred, dumped it in a prepared tart tin (I used store-bought pie crust; I make a lovely pie crust but it's a lot of cleanup work) and covered it with a lattice of crust. Bland, I know, but I don't like cinnamon and it's mostly a test of how it works.

I added some more butter to the pan, heated it, and sauteed some chopped shallots in it, then added the rest of the diced apple and, after a while, some chopped pecans. I layered this mixture with shredded cheddar in two more tart tins, sprinkled on some salt and pepper, and added a top crust with slits cut in for steam. It's a sort of deconstructed stuffing in a crust.

(I didn't use the Good Cheddar that I've been eating on toast as a snack; rule one in Sam's Kitchen is don't use the good stuff in the experimental cooking.)

I'm baking them all now.

STAY TUNED.

* Just Fucking Wing It.

(no subject)

So the tarts came out okay. Not great, but decent.

The apple tarts are, yes, bland, but the basic reasoning behind them is sound. The deconstructed stuffing tarts are delicious but they do have a slightly acrid flavour that I'm chalking up to the pecans. Some nice buttery walnuts would have been better. Plus I'm sure part of it is the store-bought pie crust.

Still, on the whole, all-round edible and nicely sized to take to work as a sort of pot-pie kind of a thing.

Oooh, some ground chicken would have been good in the savoury tarts. And a little bit of cream sauce, or some kind of sweet glaze...

OM NOM NOM NOM TARTS.

(no subject)

Ten years ago today Matthew Shepard died.

If he hadn't died, he would be thirty-two.

I don't have any new words, but I did find some old ones.