delicious delicious tears

anonymous asked:

i'm legit seeing people be like "rose is evil for killing pink diamond!!" like. was rose supposed to be shattered and let every crystal gem be shattered so the diamonds could continue their tyranny and destroy earth so that she could be ~pure and good~ like? i'm always open for people interpreting things their own way but i just can't understand how killing a tyrant when you have no other choice = purely evil?? (sorry for the ramble but you're one of the few su blogs i follow)

No problem, anon! I’ve found the way to enjoy fandom (especially a big, new-ish, very active and frequently intense one like SU, and one whose canon likes tackling some serious issues and provoking thought) is to find that nice little corner of people you gel with and share interests and priorities with, and attempt to tune out most other things. I do this entirely for my own sake, because the point of this exercise is not to be frustrated and miserable and angry (I’ve also grown pretty liberal in my use of the block function). Things still slip through and build up, though, and I too have Seen Some Shit, so I get you. Best case scenario is I turn it around and do the whole spite-is-the-best motivator thing and out pop fanworks (see: like 90% of what I call my aggressively requited Pearlrose output).

Anyway, it was a great reveal, Rose killed Pink Diamond, Garnet was the lookout, Pearl drove the getaway car spaceship, they are all good and heroic. Loved it.

sunderandkeening  asked:

"Pray tell, Sera, what's the most delicious thing you can cook with ash yam in it?"

Now there’s a question that would spark some fierce debating in any room of Ascadian Isles mer, I shouldn’t wonder. They do have such vicious loyalty to the staple, and most all seem to have their own ideas as to what is the true, correct way to use it best. I recall once seeing a pair of Surani cooks almost come to blows in a tavern, arguing over the proper way to flavor a particular ash yam dumpling. I can only speak for personal taste, naturally, but even so I find myself still unwilling to declare only one dish the most flavorsome.

So of course, I will give you two.

The first is kili-ren, a kind of thick soup between the colours of hot blood and redware pottery. It is made with Ascadian ash yam, which has a lighter flavor than those from the northern reaches of the West Gash, as well as rich, red pickled scathecraw leaves. Raw scathecraw is often bitter, you see, and pickling in sweet saltrice wine vinegar sweetens the taste, as well as giving a lovely jewel-like crimson tone to the flesh. My mother made kili-ren on occasion when I was a child; I wouldn’t call it a notably Redoran recipe, being less fiery than the usual tastes of Redoran mer, but she did often insist that only Redoran mer made it properly. Of course, she also laced hers liberally with chilli oil. I was very small, and had no toughness to my tongue, and so had mine fairly unadorned, though to this day I seem to have not grown to desire more spice in this dish. Its gentleness and savoury sweetness is nostalgic to me, now, and so I love it all the more.

It’s a rather simple dish, really. You’ll need to peel and dice three ash yams, to the size of your thumb is best, as well as two or three pickled scathecraw leaves. (Mind that you remove the tougher outer skin from these; it’s easiest to hold the pointed end down to the table, slip the blade of a sharp knife between the skin and the flesh so that it lies flat, and draw it firmly towards the thick end as though filleting a fish from the tail up). Once you have your pieces, mix together a bowl of ground black anther seeds and scuttle grease, a dinner-spoon of each, as well as a grind or so of pepper and a little salt.

Admittedly, it is difficult at best to find traditional Morrowind staples now… The scuttle can be replaced with rendered animal fat, if needs must, though the taste is never quite as rich or as faintly reminiscent of spiced almonds as good, fresh scuttle. As for the black anther seeds, the white-flowering cumin of southern Cyrodiil yields seeds that perform fairly admirably in its stead.

Once your ash yam and scathecraw have been rolled and coated in the mixture, another dinner-spoon of grease must be heated in a large saucepan over a middling fire for a minute or so, until the grease spits. Here, you’ll add one well-chopped onion and a little more salt (it does not need to sear for very long, only until it browns and softens. I tend to cook by eye and estimation, so I’m afraid my measurements of time are imprecise at best. If you set a pot of tea to steep as you add the onion to cook, it should be ready to drink once the onions are done well enough). After, the ash yam and scathecraw can be added, though you must stir them constantly to avoid them sticking and burning. When they, too, are cooked on all sides and softening nicely, or when you find your stirring arm growing lethargic, you add a little less than a cup of water, and a little more than two of bone broth (or what other meat or vegetable stock you happen to have easiest to hand).

Dull your fires until the liquid is at a gentle simmer, find a comfortable chair nearby, and open a good book or a decent bottle of wine. You’ll be waiting patiently for a good half hour, so it will serve you well to be comfortable.

After, you need only beat and blend the soft chunks into smoothness, and it is ready for the table. It’s best served with chopped nuts and hackle-lo sprinkled over it, as liberally as desired. If you’ve never tasted hackle-lo, or otherwise can’t find any, tarragon also works rather nicely.

The second, and another favourite of mine for its versatility, is remaliat, a leavened bread mostly eaten in the mid-mornings. Toothsome and dense but also yielding, made with the soft innards of roasted ash yams, it is as filling as it is delicious, especially with a hot slice of scuttle and a little steamed greens to top it. Unlike the light and pale breads you may be more familiar with, it is leavened not with yeast, but with ash-water made from the ashes of Morrowind hardwoods. It reacts with saltrice wine vinegar to produce the gases necessary to make the bread rise. (Of course, the ratios of both are tricky to master, and a small spoonful of that white powder bakers now swear by does quite a decent job instead if you are as impatient with baking as I am, though the taste is never quite the same this way.)

Firstly, the oven must be prepared, the fires stoked until the oven reaches a slow heat; when a scrap of discarded white writing paper thrown into the oven turns a light yellow in a minute or so, the oven is at the right temperature. Then, with some more white writing paper rubbed well with grease or tallow, line a baker’s tray so that the bread will not cling to the metal and make turning out the loaf more difficult than it needs to be. The whiteness of the paper is important, since cheaper brown paper tends to give an unpleasant, burnt-tar taste to the food.

Now, to the bread itself. Scrape the insides from two moderately-sized roasted ash yams left over from the night before into a bowl; in a pinch, peeling and steaming ash yam chopped into pieces will work quite well, though I would advise against boiling. Boiling tends to dull the flavor rather dreadfully, even if it is a faster method. Blend together the ash yam flesh with three-and-some dinner spoons of scuttle grease and a small kwama egg, or the same measure of rendered fat and about four eggs of chicken-egg size if you must, until all is smooth and free of lumps. After this, hmm… It’s difficult for me to translate weights into something simple to understand. I know how much it should weigh in the hand, but that’s not especially helpful, nor are the Morrowind tradescale standards which I’m sure would mean nothing to you… Well, three and a third measures of a drinking cup, then, of ground almond meal, as well as a little salt and whichever of the two leavening agents you find most acceptable. You don’t want to mix it too much now, just enough to blend well, or else the bread may not rise evenly.

Once you’ve tipped your dough out into the papered tray, all you need do is bake it for about an hour and a quarter. Enjoy this time as you see most fit, while your home fills with the most beautiful scents to be found this side of the Velothis. If your oven is trued well (or more to the point, if your luck holds; you would imagine marrying a baker would have given me some understanding of baking, but still it seems to me to be mostly confounded cursing and ill-known magics), you will soon have a delicious loaf to enjoy once it has cooled for an hour.

I’ve given myself rather deep cravings now. I wonder, do I still have those ash yams from Riften…