taste the difference!

portraitoftheoddity replied to your post: I’m just amusing myself with the idea that the…

Aw man – since Asgard’s survivors are more commoners than the warrior elite, they probably have different tastes too. Imagine Loki’s surprise that they actually *like* Loki’s underdog guile-hero stories, where the court only wanted tales of great battles.

oh man yes!! like I remember studying a lot about the kind of theater that was popular among common people in terms of farce and satire and the common-man hero - look at folk tales and the heroes in folk tales, who are almost never the idealized hero but rather the hero who rises via cleverness and often trickery. 

so that’s built for Loki stories.

i hate it when people get pretentious about video games. like okay i get that you have this deep love for zelda and skyrim and i respect that but can you not shit on people liking cooking mama or animal crossing and telling them it’s “not a real video game”? people have different tastes bro get over it

MBTI: What Flavor of Soap are You?

INFP:  Special order soap.  It tastes like bug spray and menthol.  This soap was made for certain purposes; being eaten was not one of them.  You congratulate yourself on being such a rebel as you begin to see the lights.  8/10


ENFP:  Children’s soap.  It smells and tastes exotic, but you’re not completely sure what it’s supposed to be.  The happy koala on the bottle isn’t much of a clue.  It’s a bit astringent.  It burns as you swallow.  You’re glad your tongue is clean, though.  You hiccup, and a bubble leaves your mouth.  5/10

INFJ:  Dishwasher soap.  Stronger than its cousin, dish soap, but significantly more likely to kill you.  It leaves a soft white powder residue on the burns it creates on your tongue.  This is somehow your aesthetic.  It tastes like a chemical burn and a Tumblr moodboard.  You’re pleased.  10/10


ENFJ:  Dish soap.  It smells like what someone who has never seen a real, whole coconut before would imagine that coconut to smell like.  It’s a bit slimy.  No matter how much you heave, you can’t seem to get the residue off of your tongue.  It begins to sting. 4/10

ISFP:  Hotel soap.  Completely horrible.  No matter what you do, you can’t get the taste out of your mouth afterwards.  You look at the crumpled wrapper on your borrowed bathroom counter.  You can’t decide if it’s brown or gray.  It was complimentary, so you really have nothing to complain about, you remind yourself.  There are bubbles in the cracks between your teeth. You hope this will trick your dentist into thinking you actually flossed tomorrow.  It does.  You feel triumphant as he scrapes the oily residue off of your incisors, perplexed.  You’ll never tell.  9/10


ESFP:  Handmade soap.  You smushed some stuff around in a bucket, and this is the resultant creation.  It tastes like oil-flavored toothpaste.  The ingredients you bought off of eBay probably weren’t poisonous.  You’re not sure how to get the stuff out of this bucket and into a usable container.  It will have to do – you decide this is probably more rustic anyway.  As one hand shoves another chunk into your mouth, the other increases the price of your soap tenfold on your Etsy store.  You smile in the dark, the light from your computer giving your soapy teeth a pallid glow.  Multicolored spots begin to dance in your eyes.  You take another bite. 7/10

ISFJ:  Microbead soap.  Tastes like a ruined environment and clogged waterways.  You’re not sure if fish are capable of feeling sad.  The beads scrape and scratch at your gums as you swish before you swallow.  You feel them peel away every unnecessary dead cell in your mouth.  You look into the empty bottle, wishing there was more.  You open another.  Your head begins to vibrate as your stomach begins to twist.  You comfort yourself with the knowledge that your blood will finally be clean. 6/10


ESFJ:  Bar soap.  The original.  The classic.  It tastes like your childhood – at least the parts when your mother caught you when you swore.  Nutty aftertaste with mild notes at the beginning, but now that you’ve finished chewing, it just tastes like soap.  You remember why you hated it.  You spit it out.  You wonder if you’ll go blind.  5/10


ISTP:  Hand soap.  Perfumey and bland.  It eases down your throat as you slurp from the opened bottle.  You wonder if it has been watered down.  You wonder whose soap this is.  You wonder how you ended up in this bathroom, in this house.  Your stomach begins to quelch as you stagger outside.  You lurch towards the next house, wondering if the soap in another bathroom will taste any different - if it will have answers.  It won’t.  3/10


ESTP:  Shampoo.  Creamy and metallic.  It goes down smoothly as you chug from the aesthetically-molded plastic bottle.  You hurry.  When it’s empty, you quietly slip from this shower, from this house.  You move through the night towards the house next door.  Maybe their selection will finally satiate you.  You will never be full.  9/10


ISTJ:  Expensive department store soap.  Salty and vaguely acrid.  It tastes like licking a grandma.  There’s a hint of alcohol – probably the perfumes.  You look around your dimly-lit bathroom as you sit on the edge of your tub and feel dead inside.  You look at the delicate lettering on the elegant packaging and feel alive.  You take another bite.  It flakes into beige icing between your teeth.  6/10


ESTJ:  Laundry soap.  It smells absolutely fantastic, but is so concentrated that you end up in the emergency room.  It tastes like deception and suds.  Tiny bubbles line your lips.  You realize you forgot to start the dryer before the ambulance came.  You can no longer tell if it’s the soap or you that’s foaming.  It’s soft.  You wonder if you’re finally clean as you begin to fade.  2/10


INTJ:  Novelty soap.  The fragrance of this bar is particularly powerful.  The smell is so strong that your brain is tricked into thinking it’s the flavor as well; this prevents you from noticing your discomfort as it slowly erodes away at your lips.  You stare at the box, trying to decide if Blue Strawberry Bonanza is a typo.  You’re not sure.  The prize inside lends extra crunch, but you’re spitting bubbles for an hour afterwards.  This is the worst $27 you have ever spent.  7/10


ENTJ:  Straight lye. It hurts. At a pH of 13, it’s obviously very efficient – but it will wash you away as well as the grime.  It burns.  At least you didn’t waste your money on one of those useless scented soaps.  Now it hurts AND burns.  You reassure yourself with your pragmatism as you begin to die.  It tastes like blood.  0/10 


INTP:  Holiday soap.  Special, fragrant, and full of glitter.  It tastes horrible when consumed, yet this is your fifth sip.  You take your sixth.  You look at the leering gingerbread man on the peeling sticker and don’t understand why he can’t taste the way he looks just this once.  You decide to give him another chance.  It doesn’t work.  He tastes the same.  2/10


ENTP:  Car wash soap.  You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful.  The industrial foam fills your mouth, your throat, your lungs.  It tastes like wax and fire.  This is what it means to be an extrovert.  The suds drip from your eyelashes just long enough for you to see the brushes heading towards you.  They’re coming.  You’re not afraid.  They said that you shouldn’t, that you couldn’t.  You raise your fists above your head and push out a gurgled scream.  You’ll show them.   1/10

anonymous asked:

this is a silly question, but what do you mean, "the flavor profiles might have shifted?"

Not at all silly! I’m referring to the fact that changes in manufacturing processes, ingredients, and breeding of both flora and fauna mean that the food we eat today may taste significantly different from the food of 100 years ago and yet we still refer to it by the same name.

The most well-known example of this, of course, is the Gros Michel/Cavendish issue; until the 1950s, Gros Michel bananas were the most common export, but now mostly in the US we eat Cavendish bananas, which have a different flavor. Cooking with Gros Michel and Cavendish bananas are going to get you different end results because they taste different; Rex Stout’s banana bread won’t taste like Sam Starbuck’s, and also any seasoning in the recipe (spices, etc) is aimed at complimenting the Gros Michel, and may not work as well on the Cavendish. (This is in theory, I don’t know if he has a banana bread recipe or if it was written pre or post Cavendish.) 

The same goes for a lot of fruits and vegetables – we haven’t necessarily changed breeds but we’ve certainly begun aggressively breeding for flavor or size or color, and we’ve also begun importing from hundreds or thousands of miles away, affecting freshness and flavor along the way. Which means a tomato today is a different beast from the tomato of fifty years ago. 

In one of the Nero Wolfe short stories, Wolfe gives a recipe for corn: roasted in the hottest possible oven for forty minutes, husked at the table, and served with only butter, salt, and pepper, “it is ambrosia”. But that’s for corn grown at a farm less than three hours from Wolfe’s home, picked less than half a day before it was cooked, and picked by hand just as it came fully ripe – Wolfe knows there’s something wrong and solves a murder because one delivery of his corn is of poor quality (too old, and picked too far previously). Stout acknowledges in his recipe that it’s unrealistic to be able to get corn like that, but corn grown from different strains, picked in Mexico, sorted by machine and shipped to Chicago where it sits in a misting box on a shelf for a few days before I buy it and take it home, that’s going to taste different. I’m not slamming the globalization of food (though elements of it are certainly an issue), but it’s simply a fact: they won’t taste the same. My corn, due to breeding and preservation techniques, might even taste better! But it will be a different taste. And when you’re dealing with the delicacy of flavor that Rex Stout often does, that can cause real issues. 

This extends to all kinds of things. Flour is milled differently now, and made from different grains; most things that used sugar cane or sugar beet sweetening prior to 1970 now use high fructose corn syrup (though this is a trend that is slowly reversing). Processed foods, like macaroni and cheese boxes or Cheerios or Jello, have changed ingredients to improve flavor or ease of cooking or health benefits to the people who eat them. Meat is fed differently (beef being fed primarily on corn because it bulks cows up like crazy is the most evident example) and that affects the flavor of the meat, too.

This gets even more bonkers the deeper you go. The reason modern recipes, especially baking recipes, often call for both butter and milk is that they used to call for cream, but people stopped buying cream and started buying lower fat milk, so now you have to use your lower-fat milk plus butter added to simulate cream. A recipe that called for cream was less likely to be made when people stopped buying cream, and new recipes in the second half of the 20th century were primarily the province of ad companies, who wanted you to buy their product and cook with it. If people were more likely to cook with a product that used butter and milk instead of cream, the ad companies would design recipes that way. 

So if you’re looking at a recipe from before the 1980s or so, understand that the recipe is designed with ingredients that might be vastly different from, and yet share a name with, the ingredients of today. Which affects the flavor of the finished product.  

Time travel is so weird, am I right? 

If you enjoy reading about food history, consider passing me a ko-fi!

let’s talk about muslims at hogwarts

  • being able to excuse themselves during class to go pray
  • there are multiple rooms around the castle designated for prayers
  • taking a few days off school to celebrate eid with their family
  • teachers allowing students to be out after curfew allowing them to pray isha
  • most of the food in the great hall is halal (and if something isn’t, it’s labeled)
  • muslim student association of hogwarts
  • a halaqa every week/two weeks
  • even non muslims attend a halaqa with their muslim friends
  • women setting their hijab with a flick of their wand
  • islamic awareness week where they set up stalls for trying on a hijab, tasting different types of food from different islamic countries, getting mehndi done, and a stall for information about islam

wading into the Achilles vs. Aeneas discourse here: 

Achilles

I completely agree that anyone who thinks that Achilles is a sweet boy who has never done anything wrong is reading the Iliad badly. But (1) I’d argue that “brat” isn’t a good word and (2) that’s why I love him*. 

(1) Glory really is all he has: if he loses glory, he loses everything. He chose a short life, so he’s got to do things that will be remembered forever. And part of doing things is getting things – being seen by the rest of the army to be worthy of gifts. 

I wrote a mediocre paper based on Donna Wilson's Ransom, Revenge, and Heroic Identity in the Iliad, which argues that Agamemnon’s offer of gifts isn’t actually all that reasonable: everything he offers is calculated to show that Agamemnon is superior – the offer of his daughter as a wife, for one thing, puts Agamemnon in the role of a father. So Achilles isn’t actually getting what he wants or needs – which is essentially Agamemnon as an utterly abject supplicant. 

(2) I, personally, love heroes or antiheroes who are ultrahuman: Achilles has a kind of cold fury** that is either more or less than human, depending on how you read it; I love, as a reader, his willingness to let his countrymen die for his own glory. Once he’s decided on a position he can’t be moved from it. It’s an inhuman kind of cruelty. He can’t, or shouldn’t, be judged on human morality – he is, after all, a demigod, and Homer knows it. 

Aeneas

Aeneas, on the other hand, commits the worst crime a fictional character can commit: he bores me. 

Fallout new vegas dlc characters as dril tweets

Dean domino: i have been tasting my own piss everyday in order to develop a immunity to it. I am immune to piss. If you piss on me I’ll just laugh at you.

Christine: I’m actually, probably the most superbly relatable, and normal person in this jail cell as of right NOw.

Dog: my massive shoulder span constantly prevents my tiny, malnourished ass from absorbing sunlight. My body is essentially at war with itself.

God: I can only hope that when a kangaroo court of dipshits come to haul me to prison that i have the grave and humanity not to get mad at them.

Joshua graham: I put years of hard work into getting my torture degree at torture college and now everyone’s like “oh tortures bad” “it’s ineffective” fuck off.

Waking cloud: man while you were “gaming”, I tasted 100 different wines in a cave behind a waterfall and cried into a shamans arms.

Follows-chalk: I’ve never heard of this “Europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me.

Doctor Borous: bring me your dead pet and i will make a sword out of it for $39

Doctor 0: by ripping my phone book in half I have not only proven I’m strong, but that I’m also a cool and independent guy who doesn’t need to call anybody.

Doctor Klein: YO *points to the spinal cord on brain diagram* THATS THE BRAIN;S DICK

doctor dala: spending time thinking about a fucking disastrous hypothetical penis that has a hole that’s wider than the shaft, like a funnel. And frowning.

Doctor 8: accidentally brought my piss detector into the men’s room again and cowered beneath the sink as the deafening screech echoed off the hard tile.

Doctor Mobius: blocked. Blocked. Blocked. You’re all blocked. None of you are free of sin.

Muggy: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD ABD WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL.

Ulysses: Friday night gathering up together a big pile of things I like to respect (flags, crucifixes, etc) and just roll around in it, give kisses,