chefs for humanity

“When a world class chef cooks for the underprivileged.

Massimo Bottura is the owner of the renowned Osteria Francescana restaurant in Modena, Italy; which was recently ranked top spot by the S.Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurants Awards.

While a man like him could’ve comfortably enjoyed the luxuries of life, he saw a problem with the Olympics in Rio: food wastage.

A HUGE amount of food is prepared daily for the Olympians, and much of it goes to waste. So Massimo assembled a team of 50 volunteer chefs, took the leftovers and setup shop down the road from the stadium.

They put up a makeshift "restaurant” and overnight, they served world class dinner to 70 homeless individuals. A complete dinner, made with ingredients for our best sportsmen, cooked to perfection by the best chefs in the world.

As the Olympics go on, the restaurant will continue to operate autonomously, eventually even outliving the Games’ presence in the city. It is set to be a permanent installation with a name fit for a top-end eatery—Refettorio Gastromotiva (Gastromotiva Eating Hall).

While Olympians incite unity through sportsmanship and superhuman feats within the confines of the stadium, men like Bottura inspire humanity through action outside.“

Photo source: New York Times

Just a Few Miscellaneous Thoughts Here and There

What if some languages are harder to translate than others? Such as French? Or what if some writing system confuse some aliens because they are used to forming words similar to how the Romanized alphabet works?

“Human Sato. I am happy to be in your homeland, but what does this sign mean? My translator is not properly identifying these foreign characters.”

“Oh, you mean 包子? It’s a food. Quite popular in my homeland.”

Divination, the occult, mysterious things; aliens have heard of them, and most, if not all, don’t believe in such a thing, as they know even most humans don’t acknowledge such things. However, strange occurrences have been happening with the appearance of a peculiar human on board.

“I don’t see the use of these…tarot cards, as you call them. If they provide no scientific evi-”

“Tomorrow, once we land on Novia II, we’re going to encounter a human with a violet hat. However, we must avoid them because they’re going to be dangerous to our ship; he’s going to try and steal our jump drive.”


“Human Cimon. You were spotted yesterday, talking to a wall. Is everything okay? Do you need to talk to-”

“Do not worry, my lovely alien friend! My grandfather paid me a visit from the beyond yesterday, that is all. He was just checking up on me.”

The arts are a greatly valued thing in the galactic community. The latest recruit is an aspiring artist that wishes to spread the joy and wonderful of Earth art to the rest of the galaxy. Their crew is shocked that their human crew mate could produce such beautiful pieces of art. 

An entertainer trying to be the first human actor/singer/dancer in space. Whenever things are dull, the aliens can hear their human crew mate preparing for an entertaining night, but during rehearsals, they sometimes freak out because they’ve never seen anyone in the galactic community have the ability to move in fluid ways while reciting singing.

Cooking. Most aliens simply consume dull flavorless bars/whatever that provides their daily nutrients. But when a human chef comes on board, they can’t be satisfied with their ration bars anymore.

I do wish I could write out these ideas, but I mustn’t pick up another project to work on.

*Looks at novels and comics crying out in the distance*

I’m not serving a menu, I’m serving a story, I’m serving my soul. I’m serving a conversation and I want you to talk back to me, I want you to dialogue with me. I’m triggering something inside of you, the memories of inside of you. And if I do this I know that I’m doing the right thing.
—  Dominique Crenn, “Chef’s Table”

thebubblegumbar  asked:

I would love to see some IDW Soundwave/human SO imagines. Just, things he does to show affection and care. He's not exactly good with words. Also, how would he get them to laugh?

—Soundwave almost always knows what his SO needs or desires; he pays attention to the little things that they say, and to the bigger things that they don’t.  Intervention before matters have even been voiced, or when his SO is feeling particularly stressed, is a way that he shows his love.  This can take many forms, including spontaneous trips, or suddenly scooping them up to cuddle, wordless and understanding.  

—Knowing that human dietary requirements, and consequently palates, are far more complex than that of a Cybertronian, or even that of many other organic races, Soundwave spends some of his free time finding new recipes to prepare for his SO.  He pays special attention to the nuances of cooking described by human chefs, although he himself does not understand them, and also to the visual presentation, to ensure that each meal is as near to perfect as he can make it.

—Soundwave is aware that pleasant physical sensations and the ingestion of a wide variety of chemical compounds are important to the positive mental health of most organics, and humans seem to be quite reliant on them; he likes to ready their home for his SO to return to, sometimes with a hot bath and a relaxing drink, perhaps followed by a vid and a comfortable place to sit, waiting for them before they even arrive at the door.  

—Soundwave is generally quite silent, but his insights, when he offers them, are both wise and knowledgeable.  He listens intently to his SO as they speak of their concerns or their passions, and always picks up on the important details, filing them away for later reference in his daily efforts to lighten the heart of his beloved.

—His SO is certainly a being who would benefit from humor far more than he, but this does not mean that Soundwave does not have a sense of humor himself.  He knows his SO’s favored style of humor, and keeps track of their tastes as they expand or shift focus, and he makes use of this information with pranks or creative gifts left lying about when and where his SO would find them at their most useful, or at their most humorous.  He finds small joys in watching the mood of his SO improve, and in hearing their laughter as they delight in something comical.  

samecollege squad: those who can cook vs those who hinder cooking.

{fic} No Such Thing

Word Count: 2.8k
Characters: Feyre/Rhys with bonus Amren Moment™
Warnings: Character death, arguably excessive melodrama, AUishness

Over a hundred thousand lives, it is always them. It always will be them. 

Eventually, they figure it out.


Here is a story: there is always a girl named Feyre, and there is always a boy named Rhys.

A thousand lives spin by, a kaleidoscope of worlds and ages and eras and love and loss and almosts: they grow up together, fall in love, marry, have children, live out their lives on a farm. Or they do not grow up together, and she is ordered to marry him to salvage her family’s name; she hates him, until she doesn’t. Or they don’t know each other at all: he has been pulled off the battlefield, the shrapnel wound in his chest infected beyond hope, and she is a nurse whose heart beats fast when she sees him; everyone knew he would die, she can’t explain why she is so affected by a man she never even spoke to. Or it’s her that dies, taken in the night by a plague that wipes out a quarter of the city, not a year after their wedding.

One way or another, they always find each other.

They have been married thousands of times, in thousands of ways. There have been innumerable ribbons bound around their hands, endless amounts of ceremonial wine drunk, countless vows and speeches and whispered declarations. And, of course, there are thousands of times they do not marry. Sometimes the world they are in does not call for it. Sometimes one of them is wed already, and their story can only end in tragedy. Sometimes they only brush past each other, leaving a strange ache in their absence. Sometimes they are artists, sometimes warriors, sometimes bankers and baristas and kings and queens and doctors and thieves and magicians and clerics and captains and chefs. They are often human, but not always. There is no constant but them.

One way or another, they always lose each other.


There always seem to be things that know, on the edges. Just out of sight. Things that are old the way time itself is old, who see them for what they are: heavenly bodies with no choice but to orbit each other, again and again, planets caught in each others gravitational pull to play out the same cycle across millennia. The strange things with glinting eyes: bone carvers and strange old women and spirits summoned from other realms. They never say anything, never reveal what they know in any way but in the twists of their mouths.


It is in the lifetime that they are High Fae that they figure it out.

It has taken them a long, long time; at least several hundred lives, by Rhys’s eventual count. But they’ve had hundreds and hundreds of years in this life to tease the threads together, heightened senses and endless resources at their disposal, a connection that allows the sharing of ephemeral thoughts that can’t be put into words. They are not always so lucky.

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anonymous asked:

When I first saw your post about the Swedish chef the picture didn't load and I thought you meant an actual human chef from Sweden was unnerving you because they had human hands and I was so confused. All I could think was "what the fuck are they suppose to have, hooves???" Then I reread the post and realized you were taking about the puppet

I’d be impressed if they could cook with hooves though.