Travel Tuesday: Watershed on Peachtree in Atlanta has undergone a number of changes, but new chef Joe Truex knew not to mess with Scott Peacock’s legendary fried chicken. Brined in buttermilk and fried in ham hock-flavored fry fat, the crisp, golden, utterly addictive chicken is now served both at lunch and dinner on Wednesdays—and sold out usually by 7:30pm.
If you want to be tagged in future parts, just let me know!
At the sound of the door bell ringing, Rhys grew a roguish
grin across his face as he saw his only daughter slightly blush at the
impending meeting that was about to happen. “This should be good!” Cassian
teased as all three of the brothers stood up at once to go greet the next
guest. Everyone in the room could make a good guess who was waiting on the
other side of the front door as even Feyre and Mor shared a glance at each
other which clearly stated they knew how the three brothers would act around
the young boy. Honestly, it was quite cute how his mate and cousin loved the
boy as one of their own.
Layla, stepped out of Briana’s embrace, smiling sweetly and
suggested “I will get it.”. Rhys knew Layla wanted to greet her best friend,
after all, the four friends hadn’t been together for ten months with Rhydian
busy in the Illyrian camps training, but his brothers, always the protective
uncles, made sure they were the ones who did it. Aidan straightened next to his
twin, also clearly enjoying the amusing, blushed face adorned by Layla. He was
just as protective over Layla as him but he had a definite soft spot for his
friend. His sassy daughter liked to call them “typical territorial fae men” and
constantly reminded everyone that they were best friends.
“No, that’s alright. Your Uncles and I will go, you just
stay here and catch up with the others,” Rhys suggested to Layla and his smile
grew again as she reluctantly nodded and slumped against one of the dining room
chairs. She always got annoyed when they did this even when she was, as was
Rhydian, total oblivious to what was between them. His family had already
started placing bets on whether it was true or not…
He hoped so. He had the biggest bet and would certainly lose
the most money if his suspicions were wrong.
Hooking his arms around Cass and Az’s shoulders, Rhys turned
from his family sat together round the table and exclaimed, “Come on, let’s not
leave the poor boy out in the cold all night.” As they entered the hall, his
fae ears could quietly hear Briana and Aidan moving to sit next to Layla at the
table, the former re-entering the conversation about Layla’s dress. His
daughter truly was as magnificent as her mother. Reaching the door, Cassian and
Azriel fixed the fingerless gauntlets which positioned their siphons on top of
their hands. Rhys gave them both a quick glance as he opened the wooden door. Rhydian
was stood on the lowest step wearing some fine shirt and black, smart trousers,
both highlighting his muscular figure.
“Hello High Lord” spoke the young man as he also nodded to
“No need for such formalities, I have told you before,
Rhydian, you can call me Rhys.” To be honest, he liked the boy and after what
he did for Layla last year… no, he promised his daughter he would stop fussing
over her. Cassian and Azriel straightened and made it visibly known they were
trained Illyrian warriors. Giving Rhydian credit, he only slightly gulped and
to put him out of his misery Rhys announced, “Let’s go inside, they’re waiting
in the dining room.”
Layla circled her finger around her drink glass as Briana
finished telling her about an encounter she had in a boutique in Velaris. She
lightly laughed at her story, only Briana would be able to trick a star
stricken shopkeeper into reducing the clothes prices. However, Layla was only
half listening. She just wanted to see Rhydian; she hadn’t seen him in ages.
She just wanted her friend. She admired her amazing unique family and realised
she would never change it for the entire world. Her twin to the left of her was
quietly talking with Varian and Amren, her cousin to the right chatting with
Mor opposite her and her mother was just carefully watching Layla. Nesta was at
the head of the table next to Amren still unwilling to let anyone else hold
court but the space opposite her was empty and left for Rhydian. As she thought
about him, the door opened and he walked in.
Layla threw back her chair
and reached Rhydian first, outrunning Aidan and Briana and threw her arms
around him, releasing a small happy cry, as he picked her up and spun her
around. Her family all were grinning at them but she didn’t care, all she cared
about was the chestnut-haired boy in her arms. He was tall – much taller than
her – and easily scooped her up. “I missed you too my Petite l’etoile” Rhydian
chuckled. Petite L’etoile. It was his favourite nickname for her.
Finally pulling out of his embrace, Layla stared into his
rich hazel eyes wishing he would never have to leave her alone again. He had
stayed for a couple of months after what happened last year but had to leave
and return to the Illyrian camp; she hadn’t seen him since.
“You look great Rhy,”
Cassian coughed and Layla shot him a glare that would have sent lesser males
running. In return, Cassian and Mor both began moaning how hungry they were,
competing against each other to see who was hungrier. Layla smiled at Rhydian
and then reclaimed the seat she had been perched on. Aidan and Rhydian shared a
clap on the back and Briana hugged him tightly before all the family finally
sat down for the long-awaited dinner.
With a click of his fingers, Rhys made various dishes appear
along the table: Roast chicken, seasoned vegetables and crisp potatoes. No one
wasted anytime digging in, even Amren, who to Rhys’ surprise adapted to real food
pretty quickly. In Rhys’ opinion, Cassian definitely won the hunger contest,
his brother ate like a pig! Minute past with everyone making polite
conversation, mostly Layla questioning Rhydian about the Illyrian camps. Rhys
was continuing to collaborate with the camp lords maintaining fair equality but
occasionally they forgot who was their High Lord…
“So, Rhydian, are you ready for the Rite?” Azriel asked. Both
Aidan and Rhydian were entering the vicious contest to be initiated into
Illyrian society. While Feyre had almost refused to let their son take part,
Aidan announced he wanted to follow in his father and Uncles footsteps and
would do no less. Looking at how Layla
and Briana shared a nervous look at each other, he knew they followed Feyre’s sentiment.
He understood though. His daughter and niece loved the boys and hated that they
would be parted and couldn’t do anything to help them.
“Yes, I believe so, I beat the camp lord’s son in training
last week so I am hopeful,” At that, Layla looked up at Rhydian. Picking fights
with arrogant camp lord offspring was not a clever idea before the Rite, it
just made you higher on the kill list. Rhydian understood Layla’s worried
expression and added, “But Aidan and I will battle across the mountain to find
each other.” Cassian gave a nod of appreciation as Rhys could remember, quite
vividly, the three of them saying something similar.
“Of course, we will brother,” Aidan replied- midway through
eating some chicken, “We will be unstoppable.” At that, Layla visibly calmed
and continued eating. All the adults smiled, no doubt thinking how much money they
had on the bet.
Dinner past quickly and they all retired to the living room,
drinking wine. Rhys could tell the four friends wanted to catch up together on
their own and apparently so did Nesta.
“Why don’t the four of you head out into
the city. We can clear everything up here.” A smile appeared on each of their
faces and Layla’s magnificent eyes shone with hope. He didn’t want to be over
protective of her but… he didn’t enjoy letting her leave late at night to go
partying, not after last year. Suddenly, Feyre stroked down his mental shields
and he lowered them fully for her.
Come on, don’t go all
territorial over her, she is allowed some fun.
I know, I just want to
look after her.
And you can, from
inside. Go on, she has Aidan and Rhydian and you can see how much the twins
want to talk with him. They haven’t seen each other in such a long time.
Fine, my darling.
“Have fun you guys and be careful!” Rhys half joked. With a
quick peck on the cheek and a quiet thank you, Layla sauntered off to join her
friends. The four of them, linking arms and laughing, left the town house to
enjoy Velaris with the moon and stars looking down upon them. Completely inseparable.
That was part 2! What do you think of Rhydian? I can’t wait to get more into his character! Please, please, please leave a comment! It would make my day! Thanks for reading!
A day late and a dollar short for posting this. ‘Tis my fault for being elbows deep in editing 6K. Tagging @trademarkblue since this was her idea.
Hermione followed Ron to a table in the Ministry cafeteria.
She came into work early these days, to share breakfast with him. Well, because
he worked nights as an apprentice Auror, it was his dinner, and the cafeteria
staff had no qualms giving him sandwiches and chips at 8am.
He sat down first and removed his plate with a chicken salad
sandwich, crisps, an apple, and a cup of tea while she put down her bowl of
berries and porridge with a cup of coffee.
“So,” Ron spoke with his mouth full of sandwich, “I might be
going out on a mission later in the week. We have a lead on chasing down Avery
and they think I can handle going out with Auror Williamson. So they say, I’ll
be gone a week, probably.”
Hermione watched him eat with gusto, listening intently while
also fighting down the gnawing anxiety gripping her heart. “You’re going out
with your Senior, right? Not on your own?”
“I won’t be on my own, not for another two months,
“He’s full of shit,” Harry saddled up in the chair next to
Ron, smirking at him before stealing a piece of fruit off of Hermione’s plate.
“Williamson barely runs things when Ron’s there.”
“Don’t worry Hermione, ya git. She worries enough for all of
Harry snagged half of Ron’s sandwich and tucked in. “You
know you’re ready for the promotion. I dunno why you’ve not been offered it
“Harry, has anyone pointed out to you that taking food from
another person’s plate is a sure-fire way to have a fork stuck in your hand?”
“I know Ron won’t bite me. Besides,” Harry shoved the rest
of the half-sandwich in his mouth, chewing hard, “he’ll go home and have
another dinner. This is a snack for him.”
“Yes, I know,” she sighed. “He tells me often when we both
have off at the same time.”
“Don’t blame me, Hermione,” Ron ate the last crisp. “Today
was training day and we were at it for hours,” he whigned. “I didn’t get lunch.”
“It was rough today,” Harry snagged another piece of fruit
from Hermione’s bowl and missed being forked by a half-second. “Damn it, Hermione.
It’s not like you’re going to eat everything there.”
“You need to learn to ask before taking things, Harry.” She
put her fork down and picked up another piece of apple and nibbled on it. “I
thought we’d taught you better than that.”
“Yeah, mate. Why didn’t you buy your own dinner?”
“I,” he looked down at the table, “I left my wallet and coin
bag at home. Ginny, she was – “
“N’ermind. I don’t want to know. But you and I are stopping
at the chicken place near the flat and you’re buying dinner.”
“And have him get me a salad with chicken for my dinner,”
“That’s what you get for nicking food from us, Harry. It’s called manners.”
***I highly recommend downloading the app that is related to this site and ESPECIALLY getting the Fat Bombs cookbook that the author of this site published this year. It has every kind of fat bomb under the sun and most are dairy free!
Sam waits. He sips at his peach iced tea and picks at his crisp chicken Caesar salad.
Dean and Cas aren’t half so subtle as they think they are. Sam can tell that they’re holding hands beneath the table, though he knows that they don’t think he so much as suspects.
Sam’s not that oblivious. He’s almost offended that they think that he could have missed the longing looks, the stolen kisses, the noise coming from Dean’s bedroom some nights-
Well, he really could have done without the last one, please and thank you.
But the point is: Sam is not oblivious and he hasn’t been for a while. There’s no confusion tying his stomach in knots, no wondering ‘why did Dean bring us to a nice restaurant instead of a rundown diner’, no anxiety over whatever ‘bombshell’ Dean is obviously gearing up to drop.
Sam’s just excited. It’s been difficult, pretending not to notice Dean and Cas ‘sneaking’ around, trying to subtly give them space to be a couple without making it obvious he knew. Sam’s never seen his brother so happy; he’s never seen Dean so in love.
And he knows his brother. Anything that makes Dean this happy has to scare the shit out of him.
Sam can’t say for sure if Dean’s scared because Cas is a guy (or at least is wearing one) or if it’s because Cas isn’t human, or even because Cas is it for Dean in a way that even Lisa wasn’t.
In any case, it wasn’t something Dean was ready to let Sam know, and Sam wasn’t willing to risk butting in and accidentally stomping all over something so important.
Now finally - finally - it looks like months of playing dumb and frequent trips to the library were paying off.
“So,” Dean says. He clears his throat and studies the wood grain on the table. Sam waits.
“So,” he prompts, when it seems like Dean won’t continue.
“Dean and I-” Cas starts, only to be interrupted by Dean.
“We, uh… Cas and I have something we want to tell you,” Dean says. Dean shoots a quick look at Cas, who responds with a gentle smile. It’s just a slight upturn of his lips, but there’s a fondness in his eyes that would’ve given the game away right then and there even if Sam didn’t already know.
Sam can’t help but smile.
He remembers when he first saw Cas staring at his brother that way, years ago. It’s kind of reassuring to see that that look hadn’t wavered.
“Oh?” Sam says, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. Cas squints suspiciously, but Dean’s apparently too nervous to notice.
“Yeah,” Dean says. He clears his throat again. “Cas and I… we’re together.”
It’s all Sam can do to keep a huge grin from breaking out across his face.
“Like… together-together?” he asks. Dean looks up from the table, red dusted across his cheeks and climbing up his ears.
Dean takes one look at Sam and Sam can’t help it; he grins broadly, barely stifling chuckles as Dean goes from suspicious to shell-shocked.
“You knew,” Dean says accusingly. “How long?”
“A few months?” Sam hazards a guess. Cas looks surprised, darting a glance from Sam to Dean. Dean just stares, open mouthed, then pulls his anger around him like a shield.
“And you didn’t say anything, Sherlock?” Dean grumbles, bristling with righteous indignation. Sam gives him a pointed glance.
“Neither did you.” Sam sips his tea. Dean’s irritation visibly dissipates. He rubs the back of his neck with the hand not currently holding Castiel’s beneath the table.
“Guess not,” Dean mutters. Sam takes pity on him.
“I’m happy for you,” he says. He looks at Cas. “For both of you, I really am. You two are great for each other, and I’m happy you were comfortable enough to tell-”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Dean says, his face bright red. There’s a smile tugging at his lips, though, nervous and embarrassed, and Sam grins.
“It’s the truth, though,” he says. Cas gives him a small smile, gratitude in his eyes.
“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says. He gently tugs his and Dean’s joined hands up to rest on the top of the table and looks proudly at their entwined fingers, like he can imagine no greater happiness than being allowed to openly hold Dean’s hand.
Dean looks at him, then at their joined hands on display for all to see, and just smiles and squeezes Cas’s hand.
Sam feels like he just witnessed a miracle. He’s grinning so hard he doesn’t think he can drink his tea, grinning so hard he feels like his face might split open.
They say that in New York, if you want to find a good, cheap place to eat, you ask a cab driver. In Tokyo, you ask anyone that works in the manga/anime industry. And that’s how I ended up at TORITAKE in Shibuya, with some of my friends from Bones, where many artists and animators gather to eat, drink and blow off steam at all hours of the day and night in Shibuya…
It’s a yakitori joint with an open kitchen that faces out to the street as they run a booming takeout business as well…
Toritake has a cramped downstairs counter, but I recommend trying to score a table upstairs, which is still small, but will get you a little more space…
They have a pretty wide-ranging chicken menu, as you would expect, but their other specialty, surprisingly, is eel!
We stuck with chicken though, like their crisp, grilled skin…
The chicken stuffed shishito peppers…
The negima, which they simply call “yakitori”…
And my favorite, bonjiri or chicken butt, which is called “bonboji” here as they butcher it a little differently leaving on some extra surrounding meat…
Oh, there was also an amuse bouche of minced chicken braised with mountain potatoes…
Some tsukemo, or pickled vegetables, as a palate cleanser…
Before we moved into a wonderful dashi-based chicken hot pot…
Toritake ain’t fancy, but it’s amazing food for the prices! And you better get there early, as the lines get long.