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03 January 2006 @ 02:42 pm
Cooking shows.  
I've been watching the cooking channel or whatever it's called for the past several hours, and you know, I want a cooking show. I want a cooking show called, "What We've Got". It'd go a little like this:

*looks into cabinet*

Nifra: Okay, guys, looks today like we've got bisquick, frozen hamburger, limes, crystallized ginger, some cereal and fruit wraps and uhm, I don't know - frozen cauliflower? Or maybe those are potstickers. We'll have to figure that out. Oh, thank God. Soy sauce. Today we're making a thing with that.

I was thinking about recipes to post to LJ, but the more I think about it, the more everything I do in the kitchen tends to be totally off the cuff. I just kind of throw things together for as long as it feels like they should cook and that's about it. I'm entirely poor with recipes, because I usually don't read them all the way through and assume I know how to do things better. It's all very sad. And yet, somehow, everything usually turns out pretty well, so that's nice.

In lieu of posting recipes, I wrote ficlets for estrella30. She said to sex up spring and - oh God my cat literally just sat on the hands I was typing with (though I say that as if I have other hands). Uhm. Anyway. So, I wrote a Good Will Hunting ficlet and a very poor Romeo & Juliet one. I may continue to write season related ficlets. I think you should all tell me what to do with myself. I'm medicated, and in need of direction, but I make few promises.
Current Mood: sicksick
Adoable Frunklyra_sena on January 3rd, 2006 07:42 pm (UTC)
the cat is trying to comfort you in your time of illness! She's very attuned to that, actually. next she'll try and curl up on the keyboard and nudge your arm with her nose. it's her lovenudge.

pure FORESHADOWING: baltar/six divine - icon_ascenscionnifra_idril on January 3rd, 2006 07:48 pm (UTC)
she's being incredibly sweet, but also batting at my kleenexes. but i am glad to have her in my lap because i'm so cold and she just radiates heat. i hate this sick thing.
peeps wanna see peeps boink: blue light specialmusesfool on January 3rd, 2006 07:49 pm (UTC)
I think you should write Quentin/Shreve in winter, and Wash/Zoe in summer. Or, you know, vice versa.


Feel better.
pure FORESHADOWING: Dis Posse!nifra_idril on January 3rd, 2006 08:01 pm (UTC)
Winter ticks like a watch from late September on, snow flakes falling mechanically until the streets are paved white with it, ice growing over brick and breath turning white and pale as it slips out through Quentin's open lips, heating the space between them in the small, stark bed, warming the crisp cold sheets that Shreve pulls tighter, tucks beneath him and Quentin's hands shiver against him, shiver against the cool, against the winter that sneaks between their skins, that rubs against the window panes, treacherous and dark eyed, and Quentin's pink face against the unmarked pillow is open and awake, and "Shreve," he whispers, "Shreve, night last so long," and it does now, it does, and Shreve takes Quentin's hands to his chest where they shake against his heart, where they hum and skitter across his skin, and he says, "More time here," and Quentin smiles slow and easy, not sharp like he smiles in summer, distracted and thoughtful, eyes lost in the dark, unknowable and frozen against Shreve's body, and Shreve holds him closer, says, "I'll --" and Quentin laughs loud in their small room, shakes his head, says, "Shreve, there's nothing," and his voice is empty and mechanical, like the storm outside, filled with nothing more than water turned hard. "There's nothing, Shreve," he says again, his thumb tapping twice above Shreve's breast bone, "Can't you remember --" and he does, but he can't hear Quentin say it, with his voice, his winter voice, can't hear the ice capped promise of death the doctor gave to Quentin's hectic eyes, his red cheeks, the ending, the judgment, this last long robotic winter marching long through his veins as Quentin's hands shudder on him, as their bed grows cold, and when spring comes it will still, grow empty, when spring comes Quentin's smiles will be nothing more than bone, and Shreve wants to say, "I will fix this, I can" but it's too cold for the lie, it's too cold for the speech, it's too cold, so cold and white, the pale lips of Quentin Compson against his own, and this winter will be all they'll have, and so Shreve warms his hand, Shreve warms his mouth, Shreve closes his eyes to the ice, and holds what he has left.
peeps wanna see peeps boink: bnfmusesfool on January 3rd, 2006 08:04 pm (UTC)

That's gorgeous. I love the bit about more time - that's perfect!
Burtruderudeburtrude on January 3rd, 2006 07:56 pm (UTC)
I want a cooking show called, "What We've Got".

*g* I used to play that game with my mom all the time when I was an undergrad. I'd call and say, "Okay, there's frozen corn, ketchup, three dodgy-looking pickles, rice, and a can of beans. What are we having for dinner?"

She's amazing, though. She'd just answer, "Spanish rice. You start with a big pot," and go on from there. I used to tell her she should start a 1-900 number service.
ReginaGiraffereginagiraffe on January 3rd, 2006 08:51 pm (UTC)
I'd watch that! That's how I cook all the time. Actually, Jacques Pepin's show is kind of like that. He does a lot of "what do I have in the cupboard" kind of recipes. Although his cupboard is a lot better stocked than mine is.
rydra_wong on January 3rd, 2006 08:52 pm (UTC)
(Here via flists, hope that's okay).

The nearest thing I've ever found to "What We've Got" is "Real Fast Food" by Nigel Slater.

I have also been known to Google "[thing in fridge 1]" AND "[thing in fridge 2]" plus "recipe OR recipes".
Corinnacorinna_5 on January 3rd, 2006 10:15 pm (UTC)
This is actually what I was going to suggest! It works.

Epicurious.com also sometimes is a good resource for such searches, but the Google one is more delightfully random.