Healthy sprouts in six days.
March 14th 2017

Bringing healthy food to the table, especially for the growing children, has never been this easy. We soak the seeds the first day for 24 hours. Then every morning and evening we fill the jars with water to do a shake and rinse. So, simply fill the jars, shake and pour the water out. once you’ve shaken the water out of the jars simply lay the jars on their side next to the sink. Keep them close and convenient. In six days you’ll have jars full of clean and organic sprouts for salads and sides. The nutritional value is exponentially higher when the beans open and the taproot grows. This is a great solution for anybody who feels they are too busy to grow their own healthy foods. With simple old-school methods no one has excuses and there is no light required. Moreover, the sweet and crunchy experience usually wins over the children.

From our experience, if you have an active lifestyle and need easily digestible foods that translate into quick and clean energy, this is definitely a route for you guys to explore.

I hope this message finds you guys excited about getting ready for the spring time.


niidles  asked:

🌠 :>

cherry blossoms in spring

this wonderful thing

and the rain

Originally posted by yusumii

Ramen (Drabble)

“I miss Komatsu-san’s tonkotsu ramen. His broth was the best.”

Hanzo snorts, picks up his chopsticks from the box. “You mean Chiyo-baa-san’s ramen was best.”

Genji puts his hands together (“Itadakkimasu”) and grabs his own. “Chiyo-baa’s ramen was good, but she just didn’t have enough…” Genji waves his chopsticks around (“Stop that.”), trying to find the word for a taste he can barely recall. “Well, Komatsu-san’s ramen is still the best. With extra bean sprouts, cha-siu, and chili oil.”

Hanzo suspects his brother’s taste for chili oil has gotten worse. The unholy amount of spices and oils he dumps into the ramen is enough to change the color of the broth. But he says nothing of it, uneasy with the implications. Hanzo looks at his own, considerably plainer and devoid of color-changing sauces.

Hanzo pulls a face. “No beansprouts.”

“Beansprouts are the best part. Crunchy and refreshing.”

Genji pulls the cotton mask away long enough to slurp down his noodles in one heavy pull, careful to pick up the aforementioned sprouts with it. Hanzo instinctively winces–his own noodles were still too hot. He takes a quick glance around the dingy shop of drunken businessmen and lonely women, a small part of him relieved that no one was looking at them.

“Komatsu-san’s ramen was too thick.” The elder Shimada chews on a bamboo sprout instead. “It did not match the soup.”

“The thick noodles were the second best part.”

Hanzo picks up his noodles and blows on it carefully, the stream that billows from them visible in the cool autumn air. He slurps them slowly, but increases his speed when he realizes just how much he missed this. Genji stares at his brother’s sudden ravenous appetite, and for a while, the two of them say nothing, allowing for their loud slurping to fill the silence.


Hanzo nearly chokes mid-slurp. He manages to choke it down, tears forming in his eyes. “What?”

“Do you remember that one ramen shop by the convenience store? The one that father didn’t like us going to? The one with the one with the gyoza special?”

Thinking back, there was such a shop. It had closed down for unknown reasons, but from what Hanzo could recall, they were nothing particularly noteworthy. The owner was always rather suspect, but it wasn’t as though the food was bad. “Yes, what of them?”

There is a smile behind the soup stained face mask that Genji wears. He used to do that back when they were children. Even when Genji was ill he’d somehow find his way outside of the estate, eating ramen because he didn’t want to deal with having nothing but plain foods. Hanzo would be charged with tracking him down and oftentimes, he’d find him with a mask over his face, vehemently denying that he ate when the evidence was smeared all over. He had no sympathy when the younger Shimada would inadvertently throw it all up a little while later.

But Genji isn’t ill. He’s just hiding his face and his identity. That’s all. That was all.

“Remember their spicy tantan ramen challenge?”

Hanzo groans. How could have have forgotten that? He couldn’t speak for days after trying it. Genji laughs quietly at his reaction.

“I bet I can do it now.”

Hanzo grunts. Don’t think on it. “That shop is long gone.”

“They just moved. I heard from the owner. They had renting issues with the store front and went back to the countryside for a while.” Renting issues in Hanamura usually means they weren’t able to provide the protection money and was chased out. He didn’t know if Genji understood this, but shoves some more noodles into his mouth so he doesn’t have to explain.

“If they are still around, would you like to go with me?”

Go? To Hanamura again? With his supposedly dead brother? Hanzo puts down his chopsticks. It would be nice, running around the streets of his hometown without a care. But there were too many dangers in that. The Shimada clan is still in power and most likely wouldn’t throw a welcome party in their honor. (Maybe they’d throw a welcome party of the murderous variety. It might actually be fun.)

He replies against his better judgment, “Ah. That is fine. My treat.”

He tries to ignore the way Genji seems to light up even without his cybernetic armor on. “If it is your treat, all the more reason to go.”

Hanzo scoffs, a slight feeling of familiarity returning among this casual banter. “Shut up and eat your food.”

Genji laughs, waving his hand around. “Got it.”

They continue to eat, ramen having gone slightly cold during their talk. But if Hanzo could admit it to himself, this was nice. Eating with his brother and without a the heavy responsibility of the Shimada clan chasing after him. He wouldn’t mind doing this again. They both put down their chopsticks at the same time.

They both flag down the waiter bot and exclaim in unison, “Kaedama.”