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 Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2015 1:03 pm
Solo April 24, 2015 The bet had been made with a teammate of his. They knew Fionan liked to eat all kinds of street foods, from food carts to food trucks, he liked to try various kinds of food especially international foods. The bet had been simple, or so it had seemed, eat whatever they get from each food truck. Each would be from some other country and he was to keep the food down. To keep him from over eating, which would be no good, they would spread it out as one meal a day for two weeks. They wouldn't tell him what the food was till it was placed in front of him and only then would he knew the name, not what was in it.
It had gone well, as he’d figured, for the first few meals. Then they’d brought something, he didn’t even know what, but the taste and texture was just that bad. He’d tried to keep it down, desperately, but something about the lunch time meal had upset his stomach and had him over a trash can letting up what he had managed to eat before giving up on the rest of the food. It was fear of becoming really sick that he didn’t ask what he’d eaten, and let up, he just asked where the food truck was so he could avoid it in the future.
Now though the bet was lost and they were telling him what he had to do, as they hadn’t told him ahead of time, and as he listened he wasn’t sure what to think of it. He was to let his girlfriend rework his wardrobe and his appearance; as if there was something wrong with his appearance or choice of cloths. But he had no choice and even if they wouldn’t know about his wardrobe, they would certainly know about his appearance, he would go through with it. Once he wasn’t feel sick, and had gotten something to actually fill his stomach, Fionan had picked up his cell phone as he sat on his bed and placed the call to Fiona.
“Yeah…so remember that bet I made with the guys? Well…I just lost a little while ago, and I mean I really lost. Just got home and got something to eat, but now I gotta accept and go through with the price of losing.” He said this while he laid himself out along his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. It wouldn’t be so bad, he was sure of it. He trusted her with his appearance and wardrobe, she wouldn’t want him looking bad.
“I need you to go shopping with me, new wardrobe…and new appearance – any changes you wanna make. The price is letting my girlfriend, which is you, do both things. So maybe when you’re not busy, with work.” And when he wasn’t busy either, with work or school. And to think, he’d been so sure he’d win! He hadn’t thought there would be anything he couldn’t manage to at least hold down! Oh well.
Word count: 508
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Posted: Fri May 24, 2024 10:02 pm
Solo May 25, 2024 Fionan had been nervous, scared even, since he’d returned from space. He was still checking the news as if expecting some outbreak of disease to be reported, and that was exactly what he was expecting, because those had been zombies up there and he had seen enough movies and tv shows involving zombies. How they had come to be he didn’t care, or rather that wasn’t the more pressing matter for him, he was worried that any one of them might have carried home some disease and they’d wind up dying to it and reanimating like those maned wolves that had been up in space. He’d looked up what those creatures were once he’d returned home, after he’d showered twice over, so he knew more precisely what they’d been dealing with in space.
A week back and nothing had happened though, nothing on the news and he wasn’t sick, and he hadn’t heard anything from that alien senshi with one arm. If they had gotten sick, any of them, something should have happened by now - right? Though that didn’t mean something might not still happen, this was magic and an alien planet they were dealing with after all.
What was to say that everyone who had gone up there wasn’t infected with something, some zombie virus, and that they just weren't spreading it. That once one of them died they would reanimate and then start attacking and spreading it?
Fionan had been relaxing more and more as the days had gone on, as he noticed everything seemed normal and unchanged. If something was going to happen he couldn’t fight it, not really, there was nothing to do until something happened. He couldn’t keep fearing some outbreak of disease, and zombies, though he would keep an eye on the news just incase. He just wouldn’t let it haunt him as it had been this last week. Fionan was not going to be involving himself in these senshi things though - he was certain of that. Not after going to space and encountering zombies. Fionan was also sure this decision would not go over well with the one armed senshi, alien, who had decided they were friends. They had brought him into space because of some duty to saving things…to removing chaos.
He just wanted to live a normal life, like nearly everyone else in this city, because normal in this city was not normal everywhere else and he knew that. He knew this city was special, in ways he did not enjoy, but everyone else in this city survived just fine without knowing the reason behind all the madness - he wanted that as well. He wanted to live as normally as every other member of his family did…and like his neighbors down the hall.
Getting up from his desk Fionan made his way towards the kitchen to get a drink, a bottle of water from the fridge, before returning to get back to work. He didn’t typically work while home, he went to the office, but sometimes he brought work home. He worked on software programs and had a project coming up due so was working a bit of overtime, working from home as he was, in order to get it done a bit ahead of things. He could then put his free time at the office to use doing other things. “Almost done, then I think I’ll order some food.” because he didn’t want to eat while working, incase he knocked his laptop or got food on it, he didn’t like the idea of risking an accident. He’d eat once he was done, and he almost was. But the question would then be - what did he want to eat?
He wasn’t sure really…maybe he could pop over to his parents home and see if they had left overs, as they tended to, and grab a free meal that way? He’d managed a good chuck of corned beef right around St. Patrick’s day this year. His mother had made a large one, from what his father said, and no one had been able to finish it. He’d come over the next day and snuck back home with nearly the whole remaining chunk. It hadn’t lasted more than the evening with him - he had a huge appetite for corned beef. It was a shame it was nearly impossible to find any other time of the year. He had, that night while lamenting the finished meal, that he might need to learn how to make his own from scratch. Perhaps that would be something to look into between now and next St. Patrick’s day.
Yes, that wasn’t a bad idea. He was sure it would be a surprise to his parents, as well as the rest of his family, and it would mean corned beef year round for all of them should they want to ask him to make them one - which he would oblige of course. The thought still on his mind, even as he went back to work, he reached for a small stack of post it notes and a pen. Scribbling out the note to himself he stuck it on his cell phone screen so there would be no missing the note.
Once he was done with his work he would move the note to his laptop screen, before going to his parents to ransack their fridge for leftovers, so when he came home he’d see the note and start the hunt for information on making corned beef. He was pretty sure it involved bringing the meat…whatever the hell that was. He’d figure it out - he knew it. He just needed some time and with his project nearly done, maybe another hour left of it, he’d have the free time tonight to find out all he’d need to know.
He was still thinking about his new project as he worked on his laptop, how could he not when he was already hungry? The hunger he felt was just keeping his thoughts swirling around food and making his own from scratch. Hadn’t heard of guinness done corned beef? How did that work? Was that something you added to a brine? Or was it added during the cooking process? It wasn’t something he’d ever had but he knew he’d heard of. Perhaps it was worth looking into as well and running both options by his family next year - seeing which tasted best? He was really going to have a lot of homework on his plate for this evening. As he thought that he added more to the post it note on his phone - guinness corned beef. He’d need to look into that as well.
Today was shaping up to be an interesting day, a good day though, just very odd considering how his thoughts had gone from one thing to another all while working on something else entirely. Maybe this is what happened when a person was hungry and worked more than they should.
Word count: 1,161
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Posted: Sun May 26, 2024 5:34 pm
Solo May 26, 2024 He had been doing his research since the previous night, a few hours worth of it in fact, which led to him writing down ideas on spices which various sites and videos suggested. He would try different combinations, as it seemed there was no solid one way to go about this. Of course the pickling part was the same including the ten days it should sit in the brine for. But the big difference was the spices…something which he had not been expecting. He assumed pickling spices, as someone called it, differed from person to person. Some were close, with slight changes or additions, but others were very different.
Earlier in the day he’d gone to the grocery store in order to get the meat he’d need for this project, because he might as well make his first attempt at making his own sooner rather than later. Fionan had also picked up the spices which each place listed, or spoke of, because he’d try one combination after another, tweek things as he went, and see what combination he personally liked the best and keep to it. But first he needed a basis so he’d try each of these ideas and see what he liked and didn’t like, and take from each thing he liked.
It meant he’d be eating a lot of corned beef and sharing a lot with family members - he’d need to. There would be no way he could eat all the corned beef he’d be making over the next several months, because he was also not going to do this in a short period of time, so he would be sharing with family and getting opinions from them all as well. He might as well see what they all thought also.
This was going to be a project but it would, he hoped, benefit himself and his family so they could all have homemade corned beef instead of store bought. He’d make a bunch of them before St. Patrick’s day for his family and just hand off the products for them to cook - he would not be cooking them all also on that day - that would be too much work.
Looking over what he had written down he went about gathering things, riffling around in the shopping bag from the grocery store, he pulled out various glass bottles of spices. Popping open each bottle he took the plastic cap off and removed the paper covering before snapping the flimsy plastic cap back on. Closing each bottle, with a little clink of each glass bottle, the blond set to work grabbing a large pot and filling it with water, grabbing the salt and sugar along the way, he set both down on the counter next to the assorted spices this particular recipe called for.
From the open box from amazon, he’d placed a same day delivery order on pink curing salt because it was apparently so important, he’d done his research. He’d found that the pink curing salt wasn’t just for color, though that wouldn’t have surprised him, and it also didn’t act as just a simple salt but rather it kept the meat from growing bacteria while it was curing in the fridge. Considering he didn’t need to get sick, and didn’t feel like making other people sick, Fionan was all for ordering the pink curing salt and having it same day delivered thanks to amazon prime. Turning to grab measuring cups, and spoons, Fionan set to work measuring out the salts, both forms, including weighing them before adding them to the water. The sugar was added into the mix as well as the spices he was using this time. Breaking the single cinnamon stick in half he tossed it into the pot as the last ingredient before setting the pot onto the stove top and turning the flame on under it.
Once it was boiled he’d cool it down, using ice as Alton Brown of food network suggested, before putting all the liquids and the meat into a sealable container and setting it into his fridge, he’d already cleared a large spot in his fridge for the container. He still couldn’t believe it only sat for ten days, and as he stood there watching over the pot, if more than ten days would somehow be better. Like wine or other liquors sitting in barrels for longer time periods were often better. Would that apply here as well? How long could you safely brine it for before the pink curing salt stopped protecting it from growing bacteria - if that was even possible.
More things for him to look up, causing him to walk away from the stove to write these questions into his notebook so he could look them up later, Fionan took his time in shuffling about the kitchen cleaning up what little mess there was - there was not a mess. He just didn’t want to walk away and lose track of time and burn things somehow, cooking was not necessarily his thing but he was trying. It would all be worth it, all the time and research, if he could come up with a really good corned beef for himself and his family. He just needed to stay near to the stove so he didn’t burn things and make a mess of this first attempt.
Once the water had boiled, some long time later, Fionan was moving to add ice cubes to it to the mixture would cool. He’d prepared the ice cubes the day before, spending hours making several trays of ice cubes and putting them all into a container to keep in the freezer. Being that he lived alone he had only one ice cube tray so he’d needed to use it over and over to make all the ice he’d be needing for this.
Letting the ice melt, and the mixture cool, he stirred it all with a wooden spoon he’d pulled out of a drawer where he kept things like spatulas and other tools he might need. Fionan wasn’t good with cooking but he did know how to do some things, he needed to feed himself somehow, and if he ever had family over and they wanted to cook he wanted to make sure he had what they might need.
As the ice finished melting, thanks to the hot mixture it had been added to, Fionan went to take the brisket from the fridge and cutting it out of the packaging he went to put it into the plastic container he’d bought just for this. He’d bought the container while at the grocery store, the odds and ends isle in the grocery store was so very useful to him since he started living on his own, he hadn’t thought he’d find such a thing at the grocery store and yet here it was holding the brisket so very well and with more than enough room for the brine.
Going to grab the pot he started to pour it, the pot was heavy and strained his arms, but Fionan managed to get it all poured in and snapped the top onto the container before moving to put it into the fridge. With that done he went about cleaning up his kitchen - because now it needed to be cleaned. He’d made a bit of a mess but he was certain it would all be worth it - all this work and the ten days waiting time.
Throwing the wash cloth he’d used for cleaning, he had a small collection of wash cloths for his kitchen, into the washing machine he returned to the kitchen. It was while getting a drink, because he really did need it, that Fionan decided to do one more thing. Something he wouldn’t have thought about but really he should have, as he tended to forget time and was often late for things. Bottle of water in hand he walked across the kitchen and into his living room where he grabbed his stack of post it notes, and a pen, and scribbled a date onto the top slip of paper before removing it from the stack.
Returning to the kitchen the blond haired Irish man went to slap the label onto the container's top. This way he would not forget when he’d put it in and when it would be done. Now for it all to wait and soak in the flavors. He could only hope it would turn out good.
“Because no one likes a bad corned beef.” Not that he’d ever had one, he wasn’t even sure it was possible, but he was certain a bad one was indeed possible simply due to the odds at play. He would not be creating a bad one though - this one would be good. Returning to the living room he sat himself on the couch, relaxing, as he reached for the tv remote and flicked on the tv. He didn’t have work tonight and he wasn’t hungry just yet, he felt like he’d accomplished something today.
Tomorrow he had hurling practice but tonight he could relax and so he would. Tomorrow he would add to the small collection of bruises he always seemed to have, because sports like hurling came with bruises, but tonight he’d find a movie and settle in to relax while he had food slowly making…it just needed ten days.Word count: 1,562
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