gingerbread bites

Last minute holiday shopping? FUCK ALL THAT NOISE. Why don’t you stay home and celebrate in style with some of these spicy sweet bastards? The sugar will keep you awake in case some son of a bitch tries sliding down your chimney in the middle of the night to pilfer your baked goods. NOT THIS YEAR, MOTHERFUCKER. 

FROSTED GINGERBREAD BITES

1 ½ cups flour (unbleached white, whole wheat, or a blend will work)

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon ground allspice

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ cup brown sugar

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup canned coconut milk

½ cup blackstrap molasses

FROSTING DRIZZLE (optional)

1 tablespoon coconut milk

¾ teaspoon lemon juice

1/3 cup powder sugar, sifted

Warm the oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour an 8 x 8 baking pan and put a square of parchment paper at the bottom so this motherfucker won’t stick. Grab a medium bowl and dump in the flour, spices, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt. Whisk all that shit around to get out any brown sugar clumps.

In a small saucepan mix together the coconut milk and the molasses. Put it over a medium low heat until the mixture just starts to bubble on the edges. Slowly whisk the coconut milk mixture into the dry ingredients until there aren’t any more dry spots. The batter is going to be thick like a brownie batter but a little spongy. Calm the fuck down before you email me and just trust that shit is correct. Pour the batter into the baking pan and gently move it around so that it is mostly even. Bake for 25-30 minutes. An easy way to check if it’s done is to poke the middle of that motherfucker with a toothpick and if it comes out clean, it’s done.

Once you see that shit is done, pull it out of the oven and let it cool for 10 minutes. Be sure to turn the oven off. Go check that shit right now, since we’re talking about it. Now you should be able to gently slide the cake out of the pan and let it finish cooling on a wire rack or plate or whateverthefuck you got. When it’s cool enough, cut it up into two-inch squares. If you want to frost that shit, I recommend doing it the day you serve the bites.

FROSTING:

Grab a small saucepan and gently warm the coconut milk at a low-medium heat for just about 15-30 seconds. You don’t want that shit boiling, just hot. Turn off the heat and whisk in the powdered sugar and lemon juice. If the frosting looks too thin, add a little more powdered sugar. Before it starts to harden, take a spoon and drizzle it over the cake. Crisscross the drizzle and make it look all fancy or just pour that shit on if you don’t give a fuck.

Makes 16 cake bites


[scenario] coffee shop!au

Pairing: reader x Mingyu

Genre: garbage fluff…again

Word Count: 1466w

based off of this prompt (iv): you give me a different fake name every time you come into starbucks and I just want to know your real name bc ur cute but here I am scrawling “batman” onto your stupid cappuccino

a/n: i’m writing about christmas in summertime please forgive me. i just realized it when i was done writing and even editing this im done with myself

____

You’re staring at the book-ridden wall of the library, textbooks split open across the table and graphing calculator with tangled curves and lines, as your best friend studies at the seat in front of you.

She whispers something as she puts down her highlighter, but you don’t hear it because an onslaught of derivatives and integrals shoots any other thoughts in disarray and dead. You don’t even realize the little paper balls rolling onto your notebooks when she raises her voice a little, “Are you okay?”

You sigh because no, finals start tomorrow and you just want to get them over with. “Just stressed,” you mumble between your digits rubbing your eyes. You check out the window of the library and watch flakes drift into gray space and some down to the corners of the glass.

She starts to organize all of her notes into a neat stack before stuffing them into her bag. “Let’s go get coffee or something then.”


Snow slaps down on your face right before you enter the coffee shop and you wonder why, out of all days, does your friend ask you to get a drink with her here. With an inevitable fog of coffee beans and caffeine in every corner, you squeeze your way through the other customers waiting for their orders and head to the line for the register. The low lights weigh your eyelids down heavy and sleep never sounded so good until now. You catch your friend scrolling through her phone and reading other notes, so you take the time to go through whatever material you remember in your head.

“Hi, what would you like today?” the barista asks with a slight grin on his face. You look up to take in the tan skin and dark hair slicked to the side. His eyes soften and you think it might be because he stumbled on the charcoal bags under yours.

“Just a peppermint mocha.”

His hand hovers over the tower of cups and points to each stack. “What size?”

You’re about to tell him to give you the smallest because some sleep would be nice, but you mutter, “Venti,” anyway because the sugar, caffeine, and your nervousness can punch you awake to study even when nighttime bleeds into orange horizons.

He grabs the cup, takes a marker from the counter. “Okay. Can I get your name?”

“Calculus,” you spit because nothing else is in your mind.

He leans forward a little, a strand of hair from his forehead sweeping lower, closer to his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Just write calculus.” You wave your hand in a pathetic apology, “Sorry, I’ve been studying for finals.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs as he scribbles the subject down.

You pay for your drink, but not before you hear a “Good luck on your finals” from the cashier.

—-

Right after finals, you message your friend to celebrate the accomplishment of not screaming during exams by heading to the coffee shop again. But you don’t tell her that you also thank the barista for the good luck. When she decides that she’ll meet you there, your footsteps map out to the coffee shop a little faster than usual, a little more cheerful than you intend to.

A short layer of snow crunches under your shoes as you pull the scarf around your neck higher. The dry cold bites your nose and a warm drink under your gloved hands and beneath the tip of your nose sounds lovely.

The coffee shop buzzes in post-final chatter, sometimes with a gossip tumbling from one person’s lips to another before the rumors are heading out the door. In the midst of the busy lines and slippery wooden floors, you make your way to your friend sitting at a table in the back.

“We’re done with finals,” she exhales a sigh of relief when she looks up at you. “Can you get a drink for me while I save the seat?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You head for the line and your phone vibrates in your pocket with your friend’s order.

Tall caramel macchiato please :D

When you step up to the counter, the same cashier from last time grins at you. “Hi again. What would you like to order today?”

“Just one tall caramel macchiato and one grande gingerbread latte.”

He bites his lower lip and nothing beats wanting to forget your order and run away right now. “Okay, can I get your name?”

You glance out the window and watch white snow press onto the glass walls and heave their way down to the pile on the sidewalk. “Snowflake.”

He sighs as he writes that name on the two cups, “Okay, Snowflake.”

“Oh, and thanks for the good luck on my finals.”

You watch him raise his eyebrows in surprise and soon he melts into a bashful smile.

—-

It’s two days before Christmas and even though you should be preparing for the little party you and a few other friends are having, your best friend messages you to go get coffee with her.

Y/n: You should be getting ready for the christmas party

When your friend says that coffee wouldn’t hurt and that it will fuel her to start buying what she needs for the party, you comply and drive to the coffee shop.

You wonder what are the chances of having that same barista at the cash register in every one of your visits to this coffee shop and believe it’s pretty likely. So when you walk into the shop and don’t find him at the register, you breathe out slowly in disappointment. You even contemplate whether or not you should bother to order anything at all.

When you finally reach the front register, you catch the same barista with his bangs over his forehead.

“You come here often. What would you like to have today?”

“Can I get a grande cappuccino with whole milk?”

He pulls a cup from the stack and a marker from the pocket of his apron. “Yeah. Can I get your name?”

“Batman,” your friend whispers from besides you.

“Batman,” you repeat firmly to him.

He sulks at his spot behind the register, drops his hands at his sides in defeat, and hesitates to write the name. “Can’t I get a normal name from you for once?” he complains as he jots Batman on the cup. “Because I know, for sure, you’re not Batman.”

You smirk as you pay for your drink and thank him.

You and your friend settle at a table near the counter when you announce with a slight rasp in your voice, “I’m Batman.”

“The cashier looks so done with all of the names you gave him.”

You shrug. “I didn’t mean to give him weird names. I was just out of it after studying and just went with it after.”

You watch the barista scratch his head in frustration from your seat and you and your friend can’t stop giggling at how he holds the cup up to his eyes and sighs the name out, “Grande cappuccino with whole milk for…Batman.”

You walk up to the counter and hesitate a little to grab the drink because the barista’s hand is still over the cup and you don’t know what to do. You’re about to thank him in hopes of his hand letting go of the drink when he says, “I won’t give you your drink until you tell me your real name.”

You cross your arms over your chest. You hope that these fake names don’t anger him in any way, but the worry still lingers in your mind. “Why?”

“Because you’re cute and I really want to stop writing these dumb names on your cup.”

You freeze at his words, pink tinting your cheeks and ears when you realize he thinks you’re cute. “Fine. I’m y/n.”

He repeats your name once, a smile growing out and around each syllable, as he slides your order towards you. “Nice name. I’ll remember to write it the next time you come.”

You think it’s only fair that he tells you his name, so you ask, “Can I get your name, too?”

“Mingyu.” He stands behind the counter for an awkward while before sliding a little red box tied with a white ribbon across the counter. “Um, this is…can…just think of this as a small Christmas present.” He zips through the last part, almost indecipherable through laughter and conversations of other customers, but it makes your face heat up.

At home, you pull the ribbon and carefully open the box. You capture a whiff of red velvet and remember never finding red velvet cupcakes on the menu at the coffee shop.

As you eat, you smile into the cupcake with the name “Mingyu” in your head.

____

pt. ii

a/n 2: i’ll stop adding descriptions when my writing’s gonna be based off of a prompt since the description is right on the prompt

this was originally gonna be barista!soonyoung but we don’t gotta pretend for barista!mingyu bc he made coffee in 24 hours how fantastic very nice even tho starbucks ain’t like that. i used starbucks drinks but i didn’t mention starbucks lol

7

Sugar Coated Class Playset Detail Photos

(WARNING: Images are huuuuuuuge in file size and in actual size. Please be aware and do not attempt on mobile.)

Okay, just going to run off a bunch of things to mention if that’s alright? 

Also, if you have any questions about the set that are not answered here, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask.

Utensils & Food: 

  • Each utensil has a unique design. I was unable to capture it but the inside of the blue ladle has a heart design.
  • The underside of the pan has a glittery rough finish that mimics cast iron.
  • The gingerbread house has a bite taken out of it and each side is different.
  • The sweets (including the gingerbread house) have pegs that fit into the top of the cooking surface.
  • The blue glove is squishy rubber and fits pretty much every doll I’ve put it on.
  • The small cauldron hangs on the yellow candy-can like hook sticking out of the oven. The cauldron also has a place on top (in the bubbles) to stick the wooden spoon in.

Seating & Storage:

  • The sugar-wafer bench opens up so you can store the food and utensils. It does not have much room and does not close or stay closed very well. I suggest another method of storing your tiny food items.
  • The Gingerbread-man chair is somewhat flimsy but will hold lighter dolls.

Cook-top and Oven:

  • The blue door on the top of the oven opens.
  • On the other side of the oven where you pace the fire, there is a door that can be opened.
  • When assembling the cook-top, slide the blue butterfly-looking pieces through the posts on either side of the cook-top BEFORE PLUGGING THE POSTS INTO THE COOK-TOP. You’ll see what I mean when you get it.

The stand with the blueprint is a bit flimsy and the blue print is on card board that is fairly easy to damage. It’s that kind that reallllly likes to bubble up when even a touch of liquid gets on it too.

Ginger:

  • She has a gingerbread-man bracelet and earrings.
  • Her ring appears to be a gingerbread house?
  • Her chef’s hat is also a headband with a gingerbread-man detail on the front.
  • Her belt will most likely not want to sit properly over the skirt and ride up a little. I fixed that by holding the skirt down around her legs with one hand and attached the belt beneath the waistline with the other hand. It scrunches the skirt down a little but it keeps the belt in place.

Removing Ginger:

It was a nightmare to get Ginger out of the box. The area that she’s kept in is glued on either side to the inside of the box. If you’re saving the box (like I did) please be aware of this because it can tear open the front of the box. I used very thin scissors to pry across the top where the cardboard was glued together. Disassembling the box may not be an option to get around this as for whatever reason the outside of the box was taped to hell and back and even the slightest pull on the tape would start removing the surface print.

STORING THIS PLAYSET:

It’s a bit expensive but I am very happy with it, over the moon really, especially in comparisons to some of the other playsets. The problem lies in the fact that the items are somewhat fragile and difficult to take apart. It doesn’t fold up into a neat book or anything like that it’s just individual furnishings. 

Some of the plastic, you’ll realize, is the stuff that can’t be bent over and over again, its pegs weaken each time so taking it apart over and over again to store it isn’t the best option and will inevitably cause to to break.

It’s tall, really tall. The oven wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the chimney and the cook-top itself is also absurdly tall. They are very awkwardly shaped, the whole darn thing is.

Don’t get me wrong, this playset is great, I adore it but the only options of storage are shoving it on a shelf with some doll stuff (like I did), finding a box that can fit it which can take up more room than you want, or risking pulling it apart over and over and stuffing it into a reasonable sized box.

Nevertheless. I do recommend it if you’re a fan of Ginger, cooking, deserts, or just extra little food items. It goes really nicely with the Beanstalk Bakery set too.


Anyway! I hope this helps you make your decision whether to buy it or save yourself some cash for more dolls. Good luck, take care and happy doll hunting!

trina-deckers  asked:

and another. OQ + creating a gingerbread house

For anyone who  needs some fluff :)

“Such a strange custom,” Robin remarked, carefully prodding a cooling sheet of gingerbread with the tip of his finger. Regina rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away, making him chuckle.

“Don’t touch. They’re not quite ready yet.”

Across the table, Roland giggled. “Daddy got in trouble.”

“Careful now,” Regina warned, smiling down at him as she pointed at him with her wooden spoon. “I saw someone snag a taste of the frosting earlier. I’m not pointing fingers, but…”

“Caught red-handed,” Robin crowed, ruffling Roland’s hair. “Like father, like son.”

“Gods help me,” Regina murmured, hiding a smile as she turned to grab a spatula to carefully pry the gingerbread from the baking sheet. Almost immediately, Henry, Robin, and Roland leaned in to watch her, and Regina rolled her eyes again. “Any particular reason you three have apparently turned into a bunch of vultures?”

“Henry said if you break a piece, we can’t use it for the house and we get to eat it!” Roland explained happily. Regina shot her son a look, and he grinned innocently at her.

“That is your rule, Mom,” he said with a shrug. “Always has been. That’s why you make extras.”

“Maybe. You all do realize I could wave a hand and have this all be done before–”

As she spoke, the sheet of gingerbread she had been peeling off of the baking sheet suddenly broke in half. Roland gave a gasp of delight, and Robin and Henry exchanged a look before slowly looking up at Regina.

She stared them down for a minute before shaking her head. “Go ahead,” she told them, already resigned to her defeat. Henry let out a cry of victory and he and Robin pounced on the piece of gingerbread, dividing it up amongst themselves while Regina discreetly snagged a taste of her own.

“Yummy!” Roland cried, giving Regina a thumbs-up (he’d become obsessed with the gesture ever since Henry had taught it to him. Regina swallowed her bite of gingerbread and smiled. With everything they had gone through over the past few years–hell, over the past few weeks and months–she had almost forgotten how nice it was to have a little kid in the house around the holidays.

“Check this out,” Henry announced. He held up his piece of gingerbread, which he had nibbled into a crude rendition of a person. He set it on the kitchen counter, making it walk along its surface. “Run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!”

Immediately Robin and Roland’s smiles vanished, and Robin seemed to pale. Henry and Regina exchanged a glance. “Don’t tell me…” Henry whispered.

“He’s bad,” Roland said, looking down, Robin reached over, rubbing his son’s back soothingly.

“Seriously? The Gingerbread Man is real too? What–” One sharp look from Regina silence him, and he pasted a smile onto his face. “Well, if he’s bad, Roland, then you know what? We can take care of that right now.” Roland watched as Henry brought the offending piece of cookie to his mouth. swiftly biting off the gingerbread man’s head. “See? Another villain vanquished by the power of us heroes!.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Henry Daniel,” Regina admonished, but Roland was giggling. 

“Henry saved the day!” he cried out, clapping. Henry grinned and handed him the rest of the gingerbread.

“Here, you finish him off.”

Roland munched on his gingerbread happily, and even Robin seemed to relax, although when Regina tried to catch his eye he merely mouthed “I’ll tell you later,” and busied himself stirring the frosting. Regina got the rest of the ‘building materials’ off of the baking sheets and surveyed the full countertop before her, covered in sheets of gingerbread, tubes of frosting, chocolate chips and gumdrops and Red Hots and candy canes and hopefully everything they needed to ensure a beautiful gingerbread house. Or at least guarantee that Roland and Henry would be bouncing off the walls until well past bedtime.

“All right, my Merry Men,” she announced, and Robin grinned–she only called them that once in a blue moon, but he loved it when she did. “Are we ready to get to work?”

“Yeah!” the boys cried out in unison, each reaching for a piece of gingerbread.

————–

“Wow.”

“Who would have thought two growing boys could do so much damage?”

“I’ve seen the aftermaths of royal feasts that looked easier to clean up than that.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you’ve got magic on your side,” Robin said with a grin, and Regina nudged him with her shoulder. In truth, she had made the boys pitch in a little bit with the cleanup–Robin and Henry at the sink, washing and drying dishes, while Roland was given a wet washcloth and told to hunt for all the sticky spots where frosting had been left behind–but the rest she had finished with a wave of her hand. Now, all that was left was a rack of drying dishes, a very lopsided gingerbread house, and four very full bellies from consuming all the pieces they “accidentally” broke.

“Still think it’s a strange tradition?” Regina asked, leaning back against him on the sofa in front of the roaring fire.

Robin considered that for a minute. “Incredibly strange. But no stranger, really, than flying deer or decorated trees indoors or leaving cookies and milk out for a white-bearded intruder who leaves gifts.”

She giggled. “Well, when you put it like that…”

He was looking at her, staring, really, and her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“You have some frosting on your face.”

She scrubbed her hand over her mouth and nose. “Where? Did I get it?”

“Not quite. It’s just…there.” Gently, he touched the tip of his finger to the corner of Regina’s mouth, meeting her eyes.

“Would you…like to get it for me?”

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As he kissed her, Regina swore that Robin’s lips had never tasted sweeter.