best meatballs

Okay, here we go.

This… is the Cartoon Network schedule for Monday, March 13 to Sunday, March 19.

Worst schedule of all time. Not even joking or exaggerating. The word “variety” seems to be a thing of the forking past now. Only SIX shows air the entire week, with only THREE OF THEM AIRING MORE THAN ONCE. What the hell is CN thinking? I’ve been trying my hardest to defend the network but this… this is just unacceptable. Do they seriously think kids will even like this? I mean, this is worse than Nick with SpongeBob SquarePants.

If this doesn’t get changed swiftly by next week… hoo boy. I’d give up.

New this week:

  • Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs - Mon-Thurs at 5:30p
  • Teen Titans Go! - Fri at 6:00p
  • The Powerpuff Girls - Fri at 7:45p
  • Justice League Action - Sat at 7:30a (fun fact… CN advertised last Saturday’s episode like it was going to air at night time.)
  • LEGO Nexo Knights - Sat at 7:45a

Top 3 shows (and essentially the only three shows):

  1. Teen Titans Go! - 172 - 48%
  2. The Amazing World of Gumball - 124 - 35%
  3. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs - 52 - 15%

The top 3 shows are 98% of the schedule.


An: I couldn’t help myself. This AU is just so cute. :’)

Ben couldn’t fully understand the indulgence of celebrating a graduation from the first grade. He’d barely celebrated graduating high school. Yet, he had to smile at the efforts of Sam’s teacher. He was certain she had covered the costs of pizza and rootbeer floats herself, and though his son’s near-comatose state was more of an irritation than anything else, it was evident the party had been lively and well appreciated.

Most of Sam’s classmates had been picked up early. When Ben stood in the open doorway of Miss Rey’s classroom, there was only one other straggler, and already her mother was securing the girl’s backpack on her shoulders and rushing towards freedom. Sparing the slender, smiling teacher only a wave and a rushed thank you, the mother tugged her daughter out the door.

Sam was at his desk, arms crossed on the little tabletop and head nestled on top, the skin around his lips stained orange from pizza sauce. Ben snorted, brushing black curls away from his son’s forehead. The kid was out for the count.

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I’ve been lucky enough - well, maybe unlucky enough - to have had a lot of friends who have had their ups and downs. And for an actor, that’s good. Life experience in any regard is good. So I’ve seen a lot and I’ve had my own experiences.


I cannot count the number of memorable meals I’ve made for this blog that never made it in front of the camera. Because I don’t have the talent to capture beautiful pictures of food indoors (or maybe I’ll blame it on the lack of proper equipment), I am forced to use natural daylight and my garage as a studio.

If I start cooking late in the day, especially at this time of the year, the sunlight wanes just about the time I’m plating and arranging a dish or meal, and then phooey. It’s too late. At that point we eat that beautiful meal and that is that.

This dish of spaghetti and meatballs almost succumbed to this fate. I made the meatballs early in the day yesterday and was blessed with cloudy skies – perfect for creating the best white balance in my space. Then of course, life got in the way and I had to wait to make that gorgeous sauce after it began to get dark.

The good news is that this recipe makes lots of meatballs, with a fair amount of sauce, so this morning I was able to reheat and re-plate, and voilà! A meal that tasted every bit as good, or possibly better, than yesterday’s.

If you are looking for a very special recipe to serve to those you love, or perhaps to someone you’re trying to win over, this is that type of meal. It’s rustic, but certainly could be considered fine dining. The meatballs are tender and juicy. You make the sauce in the same pan that you sautéed the meatballs, so all of that lovely frond adds to the flavor. If you have the time and ambition, serve this with a green salad, and torn slices of crusty bread with salted butter.

Real meatballs and spaghetti, a wonderful recipe I modified ever so slightly from Ina Garten.


For the meatballs:

  • 1 pound ground pork
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 cup fresh white breadcrumbs (4 slices, crusts removed)
  • ¼ cup seasoned dry bread crumbs
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
  • ½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
  • 2 teaspoons kosher salt
  • ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1 extra-large egg, beaten
  • ¾ cup warm water
  • Vegetable oil
  • Olive oil

For the sauce:

  • 1 tablespoon good olive oil
  • 1 yellow onion, chopped
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced
  • ½ cup good red wine, such as Chianti
  • 1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes, or plum tomatoes in puree, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
  • 1 ½ teaspoons kosher salt
  • ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 ½ pounds spaghetti, cooked according to package directions
  • Freshly grated Parmesan


Place the ground meats, both bread crumbs, parsley, Parmesan, salt, pepper, nutmeg, egg, and ¾ cup warm water in a bowl. Combine very lightly with a fork. Using your hands, lightly form the mixture into 2-inch meatballs. You will have 14 to 16 meatballs.

Pour equal amounts of vegetable oil and olive oil into a large (12-inch) skillet to a depth of ¼-inch. Heat the oil. Very carefully, in batches, place the meatballs in the oil and brown them well on all sides over medium-low heat, turning carefully with a spatula or a fork. This should take about 10 minutes for each batch. Don’t crowd the meatballs. Remove the meatballs to a plate covered with paper towels. Discard the oil but don’t clean the pan.

For the sauce, heat the olive oil in the same pan. Add the onion and saute over medium heat until translucent, 5 to 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Add the wine and cook on high heat, scraping up all the brown bits in the pan, until almost all the liquid evaporates, about 3 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes, parsley, salt, and pepper.

Return the meatballs to the sauce, cover, and simmer on the lowest heat for 25 to 30 minutes, until the meatballs are cooked through. Serve hot on cooked spaghetti and pass the grated Parmesan.


Never Making Eye Contact with Susan

I love the east village. It’s so neighborhoody without being lame. Like, I don’t want that life where I’m walking down the street and have to wave to my neighbor Jim while he’s mowing his lawn for the 3rd time that day, or ever make eye contact with Susan each morning at 7am while she’s grabbing her paper. The EV manages that cool low key life, like, I know you and wattup without making me nauseous like those neighborhood ‘block parties’. Because my ideal day is watching a ton of kids ride plastic tractors and poop on slip n slides while I’m being fed numerous Costco quality hotdogs and pies. Barnyard is rad, they know pretty much everyones name, and have dope cheese. The owner cruised by while I was there and she was like, I’m selling puppies do you want one. So to sum this up, I bought some cheese, had an amazing meatball sub and played with 9 newborn french bulldogs.

Barnyard Cheese

Tip: the cuban sandwich is crazy and they’re always sold out of it so I guess get there early or something.

Tip: meatballs are home made and doooope.

Tip: side of chipotle mayo no matter what

When to come here: lunch ideally, but not on an inferno like day like yesterday. AC isn’t woke like that. Ideal for picnic situation. Sandwich and cheese, and hit the owners other shop brix around the corner for the wine tho.

Where: 149 Avenue C, New York

Times:  Monday
9:00 am – 8:00 pm
9:00 am – 8:00 pm
9:00 am – 8:00 pm
9:00 am – 9:00 pm
9:00 am – 9:00 pm
9:00 am – 9:00 pm
9:00 am – 8:00 pm

Phn: (212) 674-2276


Summary: These are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon - I was enchanted to meet you. With Bucky at a party and you being gorgeous and different and everything he’s ever wanted. ((Requested by @berrystained))

Warnings: it gets a little steamy but that’s about it

Word count: 1500

A/N: Ughhhh I love this song. I really hope this is what you were hoping for, I could have gone a few ways with that ending but, well, let’s just leave it at that. Enjoy~

Originally posted by elenaamerican

Tony Stark was known for throwing “legendary” parties. That’s not exactly the word Bucky would use for them, but lavish, expensive, and utterly pointless crossed his mind multiple times throughout the night. There was a possibility that if Bucky wasn’t well known as the traitorous assassin to all the guest, and if he still had his 30’s mentality, he could actually be having fun. But that was just a dream, because every corner he turned sent another group of distrusting gazes weighing his shoulders down another ten pounds.

He was prepared to spend the whole night alone, chasing corners like a dog let loose on the street, and he would have if you didn’t have a better idea. Bucky would be lying if he said he saw you coming, though maybe that was the fun of it. He couldn’t completely shut down the watchful eye Hydra conditioned him into keeping, so the fact that you could sneak up on him at all had him jumping for answers.

He knew before he even turned around that you were someone he wanted to know. Maybe it was the sweet twist of your perfume or the casual tap of your fingers against his shoulder; people found it hard to be casual around Bucky, and no one ever got close enough to touch him. Steve was the obvious exception to all this, but he didn’t see Steve all that often.

It took him less than a second to get trapped in your beauty. Black dress, red lips turned up, and shining eyes like (E/C) vortexes. Nothing could go through his head but a small wow that echoed between both hemispheres of his brain, up and down and back again until your lips moved.

“Bucky, right?” He was still adjusting to someone sparing a smile so lovely just for him. His thoughts were only beginning to defrost, questions ringing in his ears like fire alarms. Who are you’s, How did you sneak up on me’s, and Where did you come from’s, but most importantly the Where have you been all my life’s. Amidst all of those vibrating inquiries he nodded, simple and small and lost in the pools of your irises.

“Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You smiled wider and noticed his blue hues glinting in recognition. It was the first time since you tapped on his shoulder that he looked at you like he was a person and not a daydreaming puppy. In Bucky’s head his thoughts were switching from She’s gorgeous to She knows me real fast, and he had no clue if that was good or bad.

“You’ve heard of me?” His voice is much steadier than he expected, and so much louder. But he doesn’t notice the burning stares it illicits from the guests around him, he’s too busy swimming in the thought that his first words to you were just plain stupid. Of course you’d heard of him, everyone in the room knew who he was. A solid metal arm was a pretty big give away if you weren’t familiar with his face, which you probably were.

“From Steve. Unlike everyone else in the room, I only know about James Barnes, best friend to the meatball from Brooklyn.” You laugh lightly and Bucky doesn’t think he’s heard music that meets the same archaic melody, in this century or the last. He’s also just a tiny bit relieved, Steve could certainly weave a good story or two, so maybe your impression of him wasn’t as negative as he had come to think.

“James, I don’t hear that name often.” He’s laughing now, but it comes out as more of a huff. Even in the 30’s he was rarely called James, and it was rarer still for it to roll off the tongue of someone so breathtaking.

“I don’t doubt it. Even the curators in the Smithsonian call you Bucky.” He only shrugs, wanting to break the silence with questions he was supposed to ask a pretty girl at a party or dropping lines he only just seemed to remember from dimly lit bars and nights before he shipped out, but his mouth swallowed them faster than one of Tony’s fancy new cars.  

“You’re wondering how I know Steve?” You guessed, and the flash over Bucky’s face proved you right.

“How’d you know?” His brow lifted and his head tilted, but now there was a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. It was a nice change from the stern anxious look he was sporting before you turned him around.

“I’m great at guessing games. Makes me really fun at parties.” Bucky’s never seen a charming smile like that on someone else and it makes his heart jump right out of his chest. He wondered if you could guess what he was feeling right now, and if you wanted to kiss him just as badly.

“I’ll bet.” Bucky doesn’t know who took the first step but there’s definitely less space between you now and he cant help but think that’s not such a bad thing.

“To answer your earlier question, I’ve worked with Steve before. He really likes telling stories about life before the war. He’s painted you quite the hero.” You’re almost taunting him now, close enough for him to feel the heat of your skin and the mint on your breath and imagine for the shortest second about those red lips against his. He had to hold his breath and bite his lip to concentrate on your words and not just how you’re curling them into the air against his chin.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m not a hero.” Which is true, but Bucky really just wants to know if the air leaving his body has any effect on you, or if he’s the only one being pushed overboard by the electric wall between your skin and his.

“That’s what makes you fun at parties.” Your smirk is devilish now and the glint in your eyes screams for him to just go for it. There’s a full on brawl inside Bucky’s head. We’re in public was taking a heavy beating with Kiss her leaving almost no room to be stopped. It was a bad idea, a horrible idea, but the twist of your red lips was too much to debate against.

So he did it, desperate and fast and only a millimetre away from completely missing your mouth. It was so good too - bitter with alcohol and lipstick swirling against his senses but smooth and hot like steam after a long shower. He pulled back before the second passed, regretting it when he immediately missed your taste. The look in your eyes was utter bliss when they opened again, with a good amount of deserving shock. You hadn’t expected that from Bucky, not that fast anyway. You thought about going in for a longer kiss, but then the temptation of Bucky chasing after you sounded just as rewarding.

“This was fun, why don’t we do it again some time?” Your finger traced his jaw slow enough to make him drool before you twirled around and walked away, heels clicking against the tile floor and Bucky’s eyes burning into your back. All he could do was gulp and dream about your lips grazing his, hair tangling his fingers together and breath burning holes through his skin.  

1 AM came too slowly and now you were in bed thinking about your short encounter with Bucky; his endless blue eyes and unfairly soft lips. You wondered if you made the right call, because yeah, the next time you saw him would be awesome, but that whole waiting thing was a lot more to deal with than you thought it would be. The delayed gratification of this situation was really delayed and you craved Bucky’s feel like you’d never craved anything before.

You almost didn’t answer the door when you heard an eager knock, too absorbed in your daydreams to really hear it. But you did, and you carefully flung the door open in case the person knocking so desperately was a murderer trying to get into your house.

There was no time to think after that. Familiar lips met yours and hands held your hips close. Bucky.

His metal hand gripped your hip while the other burned up your skin to trace your cheek and run through your hair. The door slammed shut again with his foot kicking it in place and your back was pressed into the wall, Bucky holding you firmly but carefully in against him.

“Took you long enough.” You laughed before he connected your lips again, feeling his grin permeate the air around it. The kiss was searing and open mouthed and left you wanting more, regardless of how much you got. Bucky couldn’t believe how good it felt to have you between his fingers and in his mouth, brushing against all of his senses perfectly. You were magic and he was caught, happily and forever if he had any say in the matter.

title: oh, the cliché (part i)
summary: You find out a little too late that you’re in love with your best friend.
warning: gets pretty angst-y
length: 1.4k words
prompt:I hated all your significant others and I’m starting to figure out why and I really really hope you feel the same
beau: chris evans

Originally posted by lufelicity

I see you. Look up! :)

The restaurant is softly-lit and crowded, but from the small glimpses of him you catch, you can see a smile lighten Chris’ face.

He looks up, eyes searching, and when they find you, you swear your heart stops. He calls your name, waving a hand over his head like a maniac—evidently uncaring that he’s attracting disapproving looks in this upscale restaurant.

And it’s so Chris that you’re helpless in resisting; your legs carrying you over there. Just the sight of him is already calming your nerves.

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@the-m3chanic cont from here

Tony narrowed his eyes at the TV. The restaurant on the corner of Park Avenue was convenient and made the best damn meatballs in the city, but the owners had a strange fascination with politics. He watched as one of the Panel members he knew quite well from the research he had taken out with Kitty stepped up to the podium to try and influence votes in her favour. With Orse gone, everyone had been clamouring for the director’s seat, and Tony was just waiting for the shitshow to get even worse.

“I reckon she lost it the same time her sense of humour evaporated,” Tony muttered, taking another sip of his cola. “Believe me, her stern face is better than her actual smile. Imagine a pterodactyl right before it eats your face off. That’s what I got at the last Panel meeting. Nightmare fodder, Bishop, that’s what it was.”

Kate scrunched up her face, and stabbed another meatball with her fork. This whole thing had gone way beyond testing her patience. (And she was usually pretty patient, thank you very much!) Orse had stepped down, sort of, and the power vacuum he left behind was just making things worse. 

She glanced over at Stark as he replied. She hadn’t really expected him to have an answer, but it was telling. “Guess there’s a reason she didn’t invite you to her press conference,” Kate said, raising a brow. It was strange, thinking of how well he knew them all. The Panel that seemed so faceless and mysterious to everyone else. But it made sense for him, Tony Stark liked having all the answers. “I believe it,” she said, toying with her food more than she was eating it. Her appetite had vanished, which was a pity, because this was on Stark’s dime, and it tasted like the first real food she’d had since coming back to the city. (That wasn’t pizza anyway. Pizza was always good, no matter how cheap.) “Who are you gonna support? To take over for Skelet-Orse?”