The kitchen is bustling! Next on the menu is a House Special for Day 19, featuring the Vice-Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul, Monsieur Trey Clover.
There is no one better suited for a theme involving a rich, creamy, and technically difficult beverage. To Trey, "Eggnog" is not that yellow sludge you buy in a carton; it is a custard. It is a science. And sharing it with you? That is just sweet.
The kitchen has prepared this Manager's Specialty Pasta with a side of freshly grated nutmeg. We do hope this "House Special" is to your satisfaction!
Theme: Eggnog
"Put that down."
You froze, your hand hovering over the refrigerator door handle in the Heartslabyul kitchen. You slowly turned around to find Trey Clover leaning against the counter, a towel slung over his shoulder, looking at you with a mix of amusement and professional offense.
"I was just..." you started, holding up the carton of store-bought eggnog you had found. "I wanted a glass."
"That," Trey said, walking over and gently taking the carton from your hand, "is not eggnog. That is yellow sugar-water with thickener. If you want eggnog, we do it right."
He set the carton aside (likely to be fed to Ace later) and rolled up his sleeves.
"Sit," he instructed, nodding to a stool. "Watch and learn."
Watching Trey cook was always relaxing. He moved with an economy of motion that was mesmerizing. He pulled out eggs, cream, milk, sugar, and whole nutmeg.
"The trick," Trey explained, cracking eggs and separating the yolks with one hand, "is patience. You have to cook the custard slowly. If you rush it, you get scrambled eggs. If you ignore it, it burns."
He whisked the yolks and sugar until they were a pale, creamy yellow. Then, he moved to the stove, heating the milk and cream. The kitchen began to smell warm and sweet, a stark contrast to the winter night outside.
"Come here," he said softly.
You hopped off the stool and stood next to him at the stove.
"This is the dangerous part," he murmured. "Tempering. Pour the hot milk into the eggs... slowly. Whisk constantly. Don't stop."
He guided your hand on the whisk. His larger hand covered yours, warm and steady. You worked together, pouring and mixing, creating a smooth, rich liquid that thickened beautifully.
"Perfect," Trey praised, his voice right by your ear. "You've got the touch."
He poured the mixture back into the pot, stirring until it coated the back of a spoon. Finally, he removed it from the heat, stirred in a splash of vanilla, and poured it into two mugs.
"The finishing touch," he said. He took a microplane and grated fresh nutmeg over the top. The scent was intoxicating—spicy, earthy, and sweet.
He handed you a mug.
"Cheers," he smiled, clinking his mug against yours.
You took a sip. It was incredible. Rich, velvety, not too sweet, and warming all the way down. It tasted nothing like the carton.
"Wow," you breathed. "Okay. You win. This is way better."
Trey chuckled, taking a sip of his own. He leaned against the counter, watching you enjoy his creation. His eyes crinkled at the corners.
"I'm glad," he said. "I like making things for people who appreciate the difference."
He reached out, his thumb brushing the corner of your lip.
"You've got a mustache," he teased softly.
You blushed, moving to wipe it away, but he caught your hand.
"Leave it," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "It's cute. Merry Christmas, [....]."
A "dish" served with patience, cream, and a dash of spice! The kitchen is pleased to present this House Special.
Elain scolding Azriel for doing something wrong, Azriel licking the dough off Elain’s finger and nudging her little nose with his flour-stained finger, Elain trying not to smile when Azriel is trying to decorate the cookies and Azriel marveling at Elain when she does it effortlessly
@sidepartskinnyjeans brought in a dealer's choice by suggesting this post as the prompt! Thank you @muffinshark for the beautiful piece and inspiring this little drabble! It's a fantastic post and I'm excited to make something from it 😆 I hope you all enjoy! 🥰
Date 16 of 28: Cooking Date
| - 15 - | - Prompt - | - 17 - |
"That can't be right," said Bucky, looking down at the scrawled chicken scratch of Titi's recipe, "No. I refuse. That's so much."
"It's not that much," said Sam, dumping the half-cup of molasses along with the one and a half cups of rootbeer already in the pot, turning the stove on to high heat, waiting for the mixture to boil, "You're just saying that because you only got like a handful of potatoes to eat during the depression."
"Look, molasses was big back in the day, it was popular," said Bucky, "You covet that brown gold."
Sam cackled.
"James, molasses was popular up until the 1880s," said Sam, trying to keep an eye on the boiling liquid and not on the ridiculous apron filled with Steve faces, "I know you went to school riding dinosaurs, but you were, like, the Cretaceous period, not the Triassic."
Sam and Bucky had been helping Sarah organize her kitchen when they had noticed a scrap of paper that had fallen behind the refrigerator. Curious, Bucky pulled it out only for Sam to realize that it was Titi's old rootbeer cake recipe, thought to be lost to time.
Well.
It was probably a recipe she wrote down from somewhere, but Sam still thought of it as Titi's.
And despite Sarah telling them that no one wanted to eat a rootbeer cake, they were making one. Because Sam remembered making this cake with Titi on several occasions and he... he just wanted that one more time.
That feeling of being close.
"You're just showing off," said Bucky, Sam seeing the rootbeer-molasses mixture get to a boil, taking the mixture off the heat as Bucky measured out the baking soda, dropping it into the pot as Sam whisked the mixture, "Knowing when dinosaurs existed. Being smart."
"I'm showing off? You're the one who tried to crack that egg with one hand. I see you haven't cleaned that up yet," said Sam, smirking glancing at the egg still very much on the counter.
"So I can't look into your gorgeous Bella Notte coral bells eyes and think 'Man, I just want to impress the pants off of the love of my life'?" asked Bucky, voice thick with charm.
"You know what would impress me?" asked Sam, trying to hide a smile, the mixture he was whisking frothing, "If you clean it up."
"I was getting to it," said Bucky, kissing Sam on the cheek as he grabbed the pot from Sam to place it in the fridge to cool, then getting to actually cleaning up his mess, "Oh, that reminds me. Jurassic Park. On the list of things I'm supposed to watch at some point."
"Date night: Jurassic Park. I'm down to clown," said Sam, pouring gratulated sugar, brown sugar, and vegetable oil into a mixing bowl, about to pour in the vanilla extract when Bucky stopped him, "What?"
"I read about this online. You can replace vanilla with alcohol sometimes," said Bucky, grabbing the cheaper bourbon bottle from the alcohol cabinet and pouring probably too much of it into the mix, "Let's see if that's true."
Sam snorted, mixing the ingredients, the combined mess a little chunky, but he remembered how his titi used to say that was what was supposed to happen.
"Hey. We need the egg that you actually cracked into that bowl now. You know, the one you cracked before you read the instructions," said Sam, snickering as he watched Bucky walk over to the fridge, pulling out the second-try egg that he did manage to crack with one hand and unceremoniously dumping it into the mixing bowl.
"Voila," said Bucky, Sam trying not to laugh at the deadpan as he whisked, everything becoming a smooth, thick paste as Bucky pulled out another mixing bowl, pouring in the cardamom, baking powder, star anise, and flour into the bowl and combining them, "A lot of steps to a rootbeer cake."
"What? Did you think this was going to be easy?" asked Sam, grating in lemon zest and nutmeg, adding salt and pepper to the dry ingredients bowl, "This was a whole thing. My parents would dramatically grumble about what the mess would be as Titi brought me, Sarah, and Gideon into the kitchen to make it with her. She needed... three helpers, you see, and..."
Sam... didn't talk about Gideon much.
Gideon fell off the face of the earth for them. Sam didn't even know what happened. There had been a fight between Gideon and Sarah when Sam was on the run with Steve. When Sam came back from the Blip, Gideon never reached out. Sam and Sarah didn't know if Gideon was even alive.
Sam wished he knew.
But he was very sure that the fight was about him. He couldn't be sure, because Sarah always shut down whenever Sam brought it up, but... Sam was pretty sure.
Bucky wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, the light pressure of their sides touching comforting. Sam leaned his head on Bucky's shoulder.
"I think we're supposed to do one of the more complicated steps now," whispered Bucky.
Sam laughed, wiping away a few tears.
"You're just saying that because you're bad at spatial intelligence," said Sam.
"I'm not bad at spatial intelligence, I hate trying to figure out what a third of a mixture is," said Bucky, but Sam dismissed that grumble, pulling out the cooled rootbeer mixture from the fridge.
"I can eye it," said Sam, feeling like Titi as he poured what he assumed was a third of each of the mixtures, mixing, adding another third, mixing again, another third, mixing, combining it into an almost liquid mix, "Titi always used to eye it."
"Your titi sounds like a great woman," said Bucky as Sam handed the mix to Bucky, who poured it into an already prepared cake pan.
"She was," said Sam, putting the cake pan on a cookie sheet before sliding it onto the middle rack in the preheated oven, "A scientist. Artist. She studied the birds off the Louisiana coast - drew sketches of them, took notes on their behavior. She was the smartest woman I knew. Wildly creative. Used to make up a new game for us to play every weekend, even when we were all teens. I wish you could have met her. I don't know if she would have loved you. I don't - she was religious, so I don't know how she would have reacted..."
Sam pointed between him and Bucky.
"To this," said Sam, "But I know you would have loved her."
Bucky's eyes softened.
"I'm sure I would have," said Bucky, putting in forty-five minutes on the oven timer, the two of them walking to the breakfast table to sit and wait, "Could you tell me a few stories about her?"
Sam smiled, grabbing Bucky's hand and squeezing it.
"I'd love to," said Sam, overflowing with warm memories about his titi.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️
Want to choose a date for Sam and Bucky to go on during this special February Daily SamBucky Fluff Diary event? Check out the prompts here and send me an ask! I’ll write you a drabble as one of my Daily SamBucky Fluff Diaries!
Your friends thought it would be a good idea since you were not a really good cook - that was their ways to say your cooking tasted shit. You would learn find a man for the best, or get a few tips at worst.
You were getting out of work and felt like getting home on falling on your couch but you had to go. In a good way, you wouldn’t have to order chinese food for the fourth time in two weeks.
You were the last one to arrive a few minutes later. It was a man who welcomed you, a blond one, that you learnt to be the cook for the lesson. He seemed young, about your age.
“Hi, I’m Sanji. You must be (Y/N).”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“You must know how it works. You enlisted on the website for the cooking lesson and the organiser choiced your partner with their algorithm but... well your partner called fifteen minutes ago and he can't come tonight. But I propose you work with me if you agree with that, of course."
The young man seemed to be a bit bothered but for you. You shook your head as it didn't bother you.
"At least I know I'll get to eat something good if I team up with the cook." You joked.
"You'll cook too ! Don't try to pit all the work on me, (Y/N)." He said on the same joking tone you used.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"It's ok, I'll help you."
And he did. Even if he was supposed to go through the different groups to check their cooking he almost didn't leave your side for the whole hour of cooking. He had insisted on you doing most of the work, yet he was always ready to take over whenever you had difficulties.
At the end of the cooking part, every team was invited to prepare their plates beautifully to have an intimate diner. For drink, and as many other tables, you and Sanji had opted for a red wine feated perfectly the red meat you had prepared together.
“It feels weird saying that but it was delicious.”
“Why is that weird ?”
“Because it’s the first time I am doing some eatbale. But it is thanks to you.”
“Please, (Y/N), you’ve done most of it.”
“Yes, but I am pretty sure you put some magic powder stuff whenever I had my back turned so that it could taste that good.” Sanji chuckled at your words before taking a swallow of his wine and putting it back on the table.
You took a moment to appreciate Sanji’sface as he looked around at the other tables - it was his job after all. You had noticed it before but he was attractive, in your taste at least. Not only physically, he was what you looked for in a man : gentle, respectful, encouraging, clever and terribly good at cooking. You found it pretty how his face seemed calm, his eyes smooth and his smile tender as he watched a laughing twosome at another table. He looked away from them and back to you and the look in his eyes changed, apologetic.
“I’m sorry your partner didn’t show up tonight.”
“I’m not. I couldn’t have a better partner than a cook.” His brow raised. “I, I mean that I had a really good time with you and you were really good to me and-”
“Tomorrow is my day off, I could come and pick you after your work.”
The blonde cook said that in what seemed to be a momentum of courage as his visible cheek was rose-coloured and his eye shifty. You were as shy as he was and drunk all was left of your wine in one gulp. You put back your glass in the middle of the table stronger than what you intented, almost breaking its foot on your plate. At least it made Sanji relaxed and laughed.
“I finish at 17:30 tomorrow.” You murmured loud enough for him to hear.
“We could go eat then watch a movie at the theatre."
“Eat at a restaurant ?” Sanji noticed you seemed a bit disappointed when he nodded for answer.
“You want me to cook ?” You blushed a bit yet nodded at your turn which made him smile brightly. “Then I will."
Maybe it wasn’t what you expected from your evening but it was far better. Algorithm could say whatever they want, the man before you promised better memories at two then any other you could ever match.
Got a super fun, super delicious date idea for you this week! So dust off those cookbooks, clean up those pans and load up on paprika, because we’re cooking.
The Date
With the right mentality, a simple task like cooking can become a date in itself. Just picture this: you and your significant other spot a delicious looking dish in a magazine, on Pinterest etc, and decide you’re gonna make it yourself. You two get the ingredients, put on some music and cook away! And its actually a lot of fun cooking together I'm not gonna lie. In fact, you could just stop reading here because cooking on its own would make a great story, especially if it turned out really good (or really bad). Just follow everything in “The Pizza Date” but substitute pizza for whatever you're making. However, I hear you want something a little more on the wild side. Well I got an idea just for you.
Hell’s Kitchen
So this is my idea to flip cooking on its head. To start off, your significant other is going to give you a picture of a delicious meal. Thats it, just 1 legible picture of the meals entirety (it has to be a fair photo though). After that's done, the outcome is in your hands. You are now the head chef of the Dates101 restaurant, and your partner is the sous-chef. Based on the photo you received, you're going to try and recreate said meal as perfectly as you can. Meaning, you come up with the recipe (or find it online), you get the ingredients (with your partner there of course) and you are in charge of cooking the meal (your partner is also there to help but you must tell them what to do). The whole dish is in your complete control, so if you mess up its kinda on your head. BUT with that being said, it makes this idea super fun and unique because for all we know your partner could be an expert in making this dish, but isn't allowed to help because they are not in charge. There is a very high chance that your partner starts bursting out laughing because you're making them cut onions the wrong way! But that's all in the fun of it, because its your kitchen, and everything is done your way. If the meal is a success you can gloat till your hearts content, but if it’s a complete disaster, at least you got a really great memory out of it.
Wrap Up
Regardless of the outcome, its your partners turn to be head chef next time, so if they gave you an incredibly hard dish to create, nows your chance for revenge! Or go easy on them, its your choice. Either way, you're going to have a blast being in charge, as well as seeing your significant other in charge. No pressure, Gordon Ramsay.
