In a blender combine ice cream,
ice, cake cake vodka, amaretto & cake mix. Blend until smooth and
well combined. Using a spoon or spatulas, stir in sprinkles. Pour shakes
into serving glasses, top with whipped cream and garnish with
There’s still the feeling of something foreign in all this; in the dimly lit and dust-drowned taverns and the creaking signs swinging above heavy oaken doors; in the happy crackling fires and glinting embers and dark drapey cloaks; in the hazy pubs and lazy wands flicked for mugs and coins, the lively chatter of some and the tight whispering of most, as if every breath was a secret and every crumb of cake and sip of liquor a treasure to guard.
It feels like stepping into one of the books back at the old library - well-worn and best-loved and rimmed with faded gilt, the pages strong enough to hold world and wonders and carry so many young hearts, and yet fragile enough that they had to be kept from coming apart for too many worshipping hands - and the child curled up at the bottom of Credence’s heart still holds his breath every time.
It’s in one of those ancient-flavoured, smoky-looking pubs that a frothing pint of something is first set before him by a snorting waiter, seemingly offended by the excited twinkle in Newt’s eyes taking him in from across the table.
Credence’s eyebrows arch. The liquid in his mug glints golden like pixie dust, topped with a foamy little cloud slowly bubbling down over the side and old Merlin be blessed, his fingertips itch to touch it.
“What’s this?” He asks Newt’s wide, sparkling eyes and they’re smiling before Newt’s lips can even perk up.
“Butterbeer,” he all but chirps, ginger hair a charming mess and on his lips a grin that begs to be kissed. “It’s nice and hot,” he attempts a wink here, freckled nose crinkling most delightfully, “try it.”
Credence’s fingers curl around the mug, just shy of the sticky bits, and warmth seeps in instantly, trailing goosebumps on his forearms. He brings the drink to his lips and blows gently on the surface, causing the froth to dance and part around ghostly wisps of vapour.
The scent rising from the golden depths is sweet and buttery, like Queenie’s cookies were when she and Jacob last came to visit with their own Newt-approved case of wonders, and it makes Credence’s mouth water.
He meets Newt’s gaze over the brim of the pint and the wizard absent-mindedly licks his own lips, pink on softer pink, moist on dry, ready to open up again in a white-toothed smile.
“It’s good, I promise.”
And Credence trusts him, because why on earth wouldn’t he, and because it’s still the easiest thing he’s ever done in his long, long twenty years.
He takes a sip and after the ticklish foam, in rushes the warm, thick mouthful of Butterbeer and oh, it’s rich and sugary and heat spreads like wildfire in Credence’s limbs, down to the very pit of his stomach, bringing tingles to the nape of his neck. He finds himself completely drawn in, eyes shut and lips latching on - and whatever this stuff is, it tastes exactly like what Credence imagines childhoods are supposed to be, happy and sun-kissed and bursting with life and flavour, and it burns just a little bit in the back of his throat.
His eyes flutter open after the second- the third sip, his body blissfully heavy, his cheeks blissfully hot. He finds Newt’s gaze never left him, and Credence’s heart beats with the sweet thrill of it.
“Is it good?” His companion asks, delight hidden in the corner of his mouth - a spark lit in his amber eyes, dark, adoring - and young Mr. Barebone knows that he’ll never get used to this.
Sure, he can get used to slobbery graphorn kisses and surprise Douglas hugs and the tickle of his silver fuzz shoved up his nostrils, why not. He can get used to Pickett’s goodnight smooches and his cuddle-demanding squees in the morning, and actually anticipate them; he can even get used to dragon eggs hatching in the most inconvenient of places and setting a good half of his and Newt’s pockets on fire, but this? He’ll never get used to this. To Newt looking at him as if the world’s biggest wonders were all held in the palm of Credence’s hand, etched in the delicate handicraft of his features. Oh, never.
He swallows thickly then, the aftertaste of Butterbeer still fuzzy and lingering on his tongue like a binding spell.
“Delicious,” he croaks at last, his voice a hoarse murmur, and the all-encompassing weight of Newt’s gaze is so vivid on his lips, Credence could swear they just kissed without so much as a touch.
Dark chocolate dreams: Bûche chocolat-pistache génoise
Folds of dark chocolate sit atop a cake that is moist from liquor syrup, with the nutty flavour from the pistachio paste rounded off with a heavenly dark chocolate ganache. To me, there’s nothing more beautiful than dark chocolate, no matter what form it takes - if it happens to take the form of this bûche, I don’t think anyone is complaining.
Fasting doesn’t necessarily mean suffering. There’s quite a bit we can do to alleviate the bodily and mental stress that normally accompanies a fast. The day before the fast, follow the following guidelines:
1. Cut down your caffeine intake to minimize headaches. That means stop drinking coffee, tea, and cola at least eight hours before the fast, and preferably twenty-four hours before the fast.
2. Avoid salty, spicey, and fried foods on the day before the fast.
3. Avoid white sugar, white flour, and white rice. Eat whole-grained foods such as brown rice and whole-wheat bread or challa.
4. Drink a lot of water all day long.
5. Eat a good breakfast that includes fruits, veggies, eggs or sardines, and whole grains.
6. The pre-Yom Kippur meal (se’uda mafseket) should include baked or broiled fish, a veggy salad, consomme, a small portion of chicken or turkey, and a side dish of complex carbohydrates. Substitute sweet deserts with watermelon or other water-retaining fresh fruit, and a cup of herb tea with a whole-grain cookie.
On Yom Kippur:
7. The more you immerse yourself in prayer, the less you’ll think about food.
8. Rest between prayers. Don’t run around outside, especially in the hot sun. Save your voice for prayers. Idle talking will make you thirstier, and will detract from the holiness of the day.
After the fast:
9. Drink two glasses of water, and then eat solids gradually, so as not to shock the digestive system. Begin with fruit, like plums or grapes. The worst thing people do is to consume pastries and soft drinks, or “lekach un bronfan” (cake and liquor) right after the fast (these are unhealthy anytime, all the more so right after the fast when they give your body a shock of glucose).
10. Forty-five minutes to an hour afterwards, one can eat a balanced meal with protein, carbohydrates, and vegetables. After eating, relax for an hour with your favorite book (preferably Gemara of the laws of Succoth from Shulchan Oruch) and your favorite beverage, then begin constructing your Succa.
Attention diabetics, heart patients, folks with high blood pressure, and people whose health depends on regular medication - you must be especially careful to ask your doctor if you are capable of fasting, and then consult with your local rabbi, giving him the doctor’s exact opinion. For many such people, it is a mitzva not to fast on Yom Kippur.