Bonkers things I ate with a friend this weekend and I wasn’t even trying:
- smoked salmon tater tots
- a blueberry drop martini with like a whole handful of fresh blueberries plopped in there
- a Cointreau crème brûlée donut with a caramelized top and a little squeeze vial of a Cointreau reduction you could inject into the crème custard to amp up the effect, and/or take shots off of later in the International Rose Test Garden
- bone marrow & smoked cherry ice cream
- burrata with a balsamic & elderflower reduction
- an extraordinarily strong drink called the Ocean Vieux (incredible), which tasted like scotch and rum and sea-toasted wood and blackstrap molasses
- a whole wheat croissant with poppy and sesame seeds
- heirloom tomatoes so ripe they were almost falling apart, followed by slices of plums with skin the color of the night sky and inside the color of honey
But I’ve come to a bit of a bind concerning Serena’s tag nickname #blueberry cocktail, which could come to odds concerning Tatsuya Yamashiro, the unofficial “blueberry boy”. However, since I usually reblog and tag the Yuya and Yuzu counterparts with nicknames (and since Serena and Yuto may well have shades of blue in their hair after all) blueberry Serena is here to stay — but with a little twist.
From now on, Serena pictures will be tagged as “blueberry martini” since they come in deeper shades of blue than your standard blueberry cocktail, and kind of add a little 007-style to my mental image of her. (yay headcanon flair)
I’ll be going back and editing the tags with both #blueberry cocktail and #blueberry martini, but as of now, the cocktails have been retired.
Thanks for listening to me nitpick at the Casa del ARC-V Bar, hope you’ve enjoyed your sweet summer stay. ;)
Oh, and one last bit?
Ruri will definitely be a soft-served ice drink, and I’ve placed my bets on her being an orange or a mango. Care to join in?
collapses back into his desk chair, which encircles him comfortingly. He
scrubs a hand over his face. Makes himself drink water. Wonders whether
Chris Evans likes water. Everyone likes water, right? If Chris wants a
proper drink there’s a cart next to the mirror; some prospective clients
need that, coming in. Sebastian happily devours chocolate-blueberry
martinis but doesn’t generally drink with clients, but can have one, if
Chris is, if that’d make Chris more relaxed.
He breathes, in and out.
A knock rattles off his door-frame and bounces around office walls.
Sebastian bolts upright, panics, and yells, “Come in!” with enough accidental volume to make his desk wince.