really quite yummy
Nov. 19th, 2003 04:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
doll-revolution.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictioni think my story is not that good, but my recipe is delicious!
Fraser stuck his head through the doorway of the break room. “Ray? Are you here?”
Ray stepped out from behind the door, unceremoniously yanked Fraser into the room, and slammed and locked the door behind him. “What the hell took you long? I actually aged waiting for you. I got gray now, Fraser.”
“Well, Ray, supermarkets are surprisingly busy at 5 pm, and. . .” Fraser broke off at the look Ray gave him, and quickly passed Ray the paper bag he was holding. “Here’s the Crisco (tm) you wanted.”
Ray dumped the bag out on the table. “Thank God! Look, we only got about an hour before the holiday party, so start opening those cans, okay?” Ray shoved two cans at Fraser, and rolled out tinfoil on to file folders he’d swiped from Frannie earlier.
Fraser looked at Ray, a can of cashews in each hand. “What on earth are you doing, Ray?”
Ray sighed, exasperated. “Did you, or did you not, get the 2-7 party memo? Did it not say ‘everyone make a treat to bring’? Don’t answer, ‘cause it did say that and that’s what I’m doing.”
“I don’t think anything that requires a can of Crisco (tm) could realistically be called a treat, Ray.”
“Oh, so says the blubber-eater!” Ray grabbed the cashews from Fraser and popped open both cans. “Like I’m going to use the whole can! And anyway, if you’re not going to help, just stand out of the way.”
Fraser raised his hands and took a step back. Ray rolled his eyes, put a spoonful of Crisco (tm) into a bowl of chocolate squares, and then put the whole thing into the microwave. After 40 seconds, he took it out and put in a bowl of white chocolate squares. Then he dumped a can of cashews into the melted chocolate.
“Ray!”
“What now, Frase?” Ray said, industriously stirring the chocolate-nut mixture with a plastic knife.
“Those were cocktail nuts!”
“So?”
“So? So they’re covered in salt. They’re not meant for cooking.”
Ray grinned as he pulled the white chocolate from the microwave. “Ah, that would be where you’re wrong, my friend! Trust me on this: the women of the station will fight duels for my salty chocolate.”
Fraser raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really.”
“Yes, really, Doubting Fraser!” Ray frowned at his chocolate, looking for a spoon. He found one in the sink that looked fairly clean, and dropped chocolate on to his tinfoil in alternating piles. “If I could somehow make a salty chocolate bar that looked like a baby and smelled like new shoes, there’s not a woman on this planet that wouldn’t worship me.” He thought about it for a second. “Well, maybe it should look like new shoes, and smell like a baby. Eh, either way.”
Ray pulled a knife through his piles of chocolate, swirling them all together. Then he put the folders into the refrigerator, and leaned against the door with an air of triumph. “There! In about 20 minutes we’ll smash them into pieces, and then nobody will be able to tell I didn’t bust my ass over these.”
Ray picked up his empty cashew cans and threw them away. “See, Frase, you learned something today. Most of the time, you can put in minimal effort and stuff will still turn out looking like you slaved for hours. It don’t always have to be slog, slog, slog, hard work; it just has to look that way.”
“Oh, I see.”
Ray whipped around to stare at Fraser, not liking the tone of his voice one bit. Fraser’s expression was so bland and impassive it made the hairs on Ray’s neck stand straight up. He crossed his arms. “Oh, really? And what is it that you ‘see’, Fraser?”
Fraser stood at parade rest and addressed a spot somewhere over Ray’s shoulder. “I see that you apparently believe that as long as appearances are appropriate, no one will think to question the underlying foundation. That you’ll do the least amount required and no more, because it’s just not worth the effort.”
Ray stared a Fraser for a long moment, and the suddenly rolled his eyes and grinned. “I need to have a talk with your Grandma, Frase. You read way too many books as a kid.”
“I hardly think that’s possible, Ray.”
Ray took a step forward and poked Fraser in the chest. “Oh, believe me, it is. But let’s look at this another way. Am I subtle?”
“What?”
“Subtle, Frase, am I subtle? Am I sly? Crafty? Obscure? Am I you?”
Fraser frowned. “Well, no, I wouldn’t say any of those words accurately describe you.”
Ray took another two steps forward until he body touched Fraser’s, pressing him lightly against the wall. “So do you really think I’m going to lock you in the break room and tell you some stupid story about chocolate that’s really a simile about our relationship?”
Fraser slowly relaxed his body, his arms going around Ray’s waist to draw him in even closer. “I was unforgivably stupid, Ray. Of course you would do no such thing. But it would be a metaphor if you did. Which you wouldn’t,” he added quickly as Ray glared at him.
“Damn straight, Frase.” He grinned and lightly ground his hips against Fraser’s. “Besides, I got you locked in a room with a can of Crisco (tm), I got other things on my mind.”
Fraser’s eyes went comically wide, and he pushed Ray away from him with enough force that Ray ended up halfway across the room. “Ray! People eat in this room! Lieutenant Welsh eats in this room!”
Ray laughed so hard he got the hiccups, it took Fraser 17 minutes, a lemon, and three butter knives to get rid of them, and they were, in fact, late to the holiday party.
But the candy was a hit.
Ray's Salty Chocolate Nuts*
2 8oz cans SALTED cashew halves
6 1oz squares dark or milk chocolate
6 1oz squares white chocolate
2 1/8 cup of Crisco (tm)
Spread a piece of tinfoil on a cookie sheet. Put the dark or milk chocolate squares and the Crisco (tm) in a bowl and melt them in the microwave, 15 seconds at a time, stirring in between. When melted, dump in a can of cashews and stir well.
Do the same for the white chocolate.
Using a large spoon, drop spoonfuls of chocolate-nut mixture onto the tinfoil in an alternating pattern, like a checkerboard. Then use a knife to swirl the spoonfuls together.
Put the cookie sheet in the freezer for about 20 minutes, or the refrigerator for about 40 minutes. Take out, and break the bark into bite-sized pieces. Voila!
(you don’t have to use the Crisco (tm) if you don’t want, but it helps to keep the chocolate from melting all over your hands.)
(980 words without the recipe, 1146 with)
*ETA: recipe name courtesty of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jenboo
Fraser stuck his head through the doorway of the break room. “Ray? Are you here?”
Ray stepped out from behind the door, unceremoniously yanked Fraser into the room, and slammed and locked the door behind him. “What the hell took you long? I actually aged waiting for you. I got gray now, Fraser.”
“Well, Ray, supermarkets are surprisingly busy at 5 pm, and. . .” Fraser broke off at the look Ray gave him, and quickly passed Ray the paper bag he was holding. “Here’s the Crisco (tm) you wanted.”
Ray dumped the bag out on the table. “Thank God! Look, we only got about an hour before the holiday party, so start opening those cans, okay?” Ray shoved two cans at Fraser, and rolled out tinfoil on to file folders he’d swiped from Frannie earlier.
Fraser looked at Ray, a can of cashews in each hand. “What on earth are you doing, Ray?”
Ray sighed, exasperated. “Did you, or did you not, get the 2-7 party memo? Did it not say ‘everyone make a treat to bring’? Don’t answer, ‘cause it did say that and that’s what I’m doing.”
“I don’t think anything that requires a can of Crisco (tm) could realistically be called a treat, Ray.”
“Oh, so says the blubber-eater!” Ray grabbed the cashews from Fraser and popped open both cans. “Like I’m going to use the whole can! And anyway, if you’re not going to help, just stand out of the way.”
Fraser raised his hands and took a step back. Ray rolled his eyes, put a spoonful of Crisco (tm) into a bowl of chocolate squares, and then put the whole thing into the microwave. After 40 seconds, he took it out and put in a bowl of white chocolate squares. Then he dumped a can of cashews into the melted chocolate.
“Ray!”
“What now, Frase?” Ray said, industriously stirring the chocolate-nut mixture with a plastic knife.
“Those were cocktail nuts!”
“So?”
“So? So they’re covered in salt. They’re not meant for cooking.”
Ray grinned as he pulled the white chocolate from the microwave. “Ah, that would be where you’re wrong, my friend! Trust me on this: the women of the station will fight duels for my salty chocolate.”
Fraser raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really.”
“Yes, really, Doubting Fraser!” Ray frowned at his chocolate, looking for a spoon. He found one in the sink that looked fairly clean, and dropped chocolate on to his tinfoil in alternating piles. “If I could somehow make a salty chocolate bar that looked like a baby and smelled like new shoes, there’s not a woman on this planet that wouldn’t worship me.” He thought about it for a second. “Well, maybe it should look like new shoes, and smell like a baby. Eh, either way.”
Ray pulled a knife through his piles of chocolate, swirling them all together. Then he put the folders into the refrigerator, and leaned against the door with an air of triumph. “There! In about 20 minutes we’ll smash them into pieces, and then nobody will be able to tell I didn’t bust my ass over these.”
Ray picked up his empty cashew cans and threw them away. “See, Frase, you learned something today. Most of the time, you can put in minimal effort and stuff will still turn out looking like you slaved for hours. It don’t always have to be slog, slog, slog, hard work; it just has to look that way.”
“Oh, I see.”
Ray whipped around to stare at Fraser, not liking the tone of his voice one bit. Fraser’s expression was so bland and impassive it made the hairs on Ray’s neck stand straight up. He crossed his arms. “Oh, really? And what is it that you ‘see’, Fraser?”
Fraser stood at parade rest and addressed a spot somewhere over Ray’s shoulder. “I see that you apparently believe that as long as appearances are appropriate, no one will think to question the underlying foundation. That you’ll do the least amount required and no more, because it’s just not worth the effort.”
Ray stared a Fraser for a long moment, and the suddenly rolled his eyes and grinned. “I need to have a talk with your Grandma, Frase. You read way too many books as a kid.”
“I hardly think that’s possible, Ray.”
Ray took a step forward and poked Fraser in the chest. “Oh, believe me, it is. But let’s look at this another way. Am I subtle?”
“What?”
“Subtle, Frase, am I subtle? Am I sly? Crafty? Obscure? Am I you?”
Fraser frowned. “Well, no, I wouldn’t say any of those words accurately describe you.”
Ray took another two steps forward until he body touched Fraser’s, pressing him lightly against the wall. “So do you really think I’m going to lock you in the break room and tell you some stupid story about chocolate that’s really a simile about our relationship?”
Fraser slowly relaxed his body, his arms going around Ray’s waist to draw him in even closer. “I was unforgivably stupid, Ray. Of course you would do no such thing. But it would be a metaphor if you did. Which you wouldn’t,” he added quickly as Ray glared at him.
“Damn straight, Frase.” He grinned and lightly ground his hips against Fraser’s. “Besides, I got you locked in a room with a can of Crisco (tm), I got other things on my mind.”
Fraser’s eyes went comically wide, and he pushed Ray away from him with enough force that Ray ended up halfway across the room. “Ray! People eat in this room! Lieutenant Welsh eats in this room!”
Ray laughed so hard he got the hiccups, it took Fraser 17 minutes, a lemon, and three butter knives to get rid of them, and they were, in fact, late to the holiday party.
But the candy was a hit.
Ray's Salty Chocolate Nuts*
2 8oz cans SALTED cashew halves
6 1oz squares dark or milk chocolate
6 1oz squares white chocolate
2 1/8 cup of Crisco (tm)
Spread a piece of tinfoil on a cookie sheet. Put the dark or milk chocolate squares and the Crisco (tm) in a bowl and melt them in the microwave, 15 seconds at a time, stirring in between. When melted, dump in a can of cashews and stir well.
Do the same for the white chocolate.
Using a large spoon, drop spoonfuls of chocolate-nut mixture onto the tinfoil in an alternating pattern, like a checkerboard. Then use a knife to swirl the spoonfuls together.
Put the cookie sheet in the freezer for about 20 minutes, or the refrigerator for about 40 minutes. Take out, and break the bark into bite-sized pieces. Voila!
(you don’t have to use the Crisco (tm) if you don’t want, but it helps to keep the chocolate from melting all over your hands.)
(980 words without the recipe, 1146 with)
*ETA: recipe name courtesty of
jenboo
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-19 11:00 pm (UTC)So is the story.
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:01 pm (UTC)(love the icon)
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:16 pm (UTC)I think I need one...
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:23 pm (UTC)make me all hungry and drool-y while i'm at work!
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:29 pm (UTC)Sorry to torment you at work...
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:18 pm (UTC)This totally cracked me up. It's very true, and it sounds very Ray.
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:24 pm (UTC)(dark chocolate-cover potato chip are excellent!
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Date: 2003-11-19 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-19 11:37 pm (UTC)(hee hee)
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Date: 2003-11-20 12:21 am (UTC)otherwise, i, too, use the double-boiler. (so steamy! so fun!)
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Date: 2003-11-20 01:11 am (UTC)*coughcoughcough* Wow, never thought I'd say that!
FUN story!
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Date: 2003-11-20 05:41 am (UTC):::wide wide eyes:::
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Date: 2003-11-20 01:17 am (UTC)^_^;;
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Date: 2003-11-20 05:42 am (UTC)it just needs a name - 'salty bar' doesn't really cut it.
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Date: 2003-11-20 01:25 am (UTC)I'm not sure I want to know how butter knives were used in this process ... Heh. Great job!
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Date: 2003-11-20 05:44 am (UTC)i figure, it's either a Canadian or an Inuit thing. :::bg:::
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Date: 2003-11-20 02:07 am (UTC)BTW, it's your fault that I now have Chef's Chocolate Salty Balls song going through my head.
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Date: 2003-11-20 05:45 am (UTC)i never thought of that, but it's perfect! ill go change it right now! thanks!
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Date: 2003-11-20 09:35 am (UTC)ROFL!!!
I don't even know why that cracked me up so much but I have discovered my floor needs vacuuming...
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Date: 2003-11-20 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 06:31 pm (UTC)Are ya TRYING to get me fired. I'm snickering in my little corner here. No, seriously, it's sentences like that that bring the whole thing home, y'know! I'd have to disagree with your statement on the list. BOTH the story and the recipie are yummy!
:)pg
no subject
Date: 2003-11-21 04:49 am (UTC)“I was unforgivably stupid, Ray. Of course you would do no such thing. But it would be a metaphor if you did. Which you wouldn’t,”
God, your voices are great. This was hilarious.
(And, by the way, I have a friend who says he's going to market a snack called Sugar-Fried Salt, and I'm sure he'll be a millionaire.)