from an askReddit thread about wildest shit you’ve seen at parties

when ur 5 minutes late feeding the cat

eudaemaniacal:

i can bake bread now without having to look at a recipe– i know the proportions for how i like a loaf, and i can do it by feel. i made a very good wheat/mixed loaf just tonight and i had several slices with loads of butter and the peach spread i made. i am feeling extremely happy about it that’s all

peach butter

get 5 or 6 ripe peaches & peel. (easiest way is to bring a pot of water to a rolling boil; boil peaches for 30 sec; plunge them into cold water. should come off pretty easy.) pit them. stew in slow cooker or maybe roast at a low temperature for about two hours. let them cool a bit and puree. add cloves, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, cardamom, vanilla, however much you’d like, also sugar to taste, probably some lemon juice. slow cook again, 3 or so hours, or simmer on your stovetop until reduced. very very good

unopenablebox:

lying in bed very hungry NOT moving

update bacon sandwich

The figs we ate wrapped in bacon.
The gelato we consumed lustily:
coconut milk, clove, fresh pear.
How we’d dump hot espresso on it,
just watch it melt, licking our spoons
clean. The potatoes fried in duck fat,
the salt we’d suck off our fingers,
the eggs we’d watch get beaten
’til they were a dizzying bright yellow,
how their edges crisped in the pan.
The pink salt blossom of prosciutto
we pulled apart with our hands, melting
on our eager tongues. The green herbs
with goat cheese, the aged brie paired
with a small pot of strawberry jam,
the final sour cherry we kept politely
pushing onto each other’s plate, saying,
No, you. But it’s so good. No, it’s yours.
How I finally put an end to it, plucked it
from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth.
How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart.
How good it felt: to want something and
pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway.