Pulses Food Quotes

Waves are the voices of tides. Tides are life," murmured Niko. "They bring new food for shore creatures, and take ships out to sea. They are the ocean's pulse, and our own heartbeat.

She Was A Phantom of Delight She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament: Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death: The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.

Love—the desire to love and be loved, to hold and be held, to give love even if your experience as a recipient has been compromised or incomplete—is the constant on the continuum of hunger, it's what links the anorexic to the garden-variety dieter, it's the persistent pulse of need and yearning behind the reach for food, for sex, for something.

Eliminate the concept of division by class, skills, race, income, and nationality. We are all equals with a common pulse to survive. Every human requires food and water. Every human has a dream and desire to be happy. Every human responds to love, suffering and pain. Every human bleeds the same color and occupies the same world. Let us recognize that we are all part of each other. We are all human. We are all one.

And what if Aaron drank from the unwilling? If he killed men and women – what then?” “I don't know that he did.” Kalina turned to face him. They drove on. “It sounds like he stuck to Vampire Wine. Which is more than I can say for you.” “Listen,” said Jaegar. “You eat your steak. I’ll eat my humans. You don't need to get self-righteous with me. As far as I'm concerned – you're just food.” “I'm food that can talk. And in any case – you don't seem to make up your mind whether you want to sleep with me or have me for dinner.” “Both, really.

Your body is the piece of the universe you've been given; as long as you have a pulse, it presents you with an ongoing shower of immediate sensate experiences.

For there to be harmony and peace, everything must be balanced. And for there to be balance, there must be equality. And where there is equality, there will be justice. And where justice is honored and preserved, there will always be truth. Eliminate the concept of division by class, skills, race, income, and nationality. We are all equals with a common pulse to survive. Every human requires food and water. Every human has a dream and desire to be happy. Every human responds to love, suffering and pain. Every human bleeds the same color and occupies the same world. Let us recognize that we are all part of each other. We are all human. We are all one.

Oh, but once my memories had pulsed with the blood-heat of life. In desperation, I forced myself to recall that once, I had walked with kings and conversed in languages never heard in this land. Once I had stood at the prow of a Sea Wolf ship and sailed oceans unknown to seamen here. I had ridden horses through desert lands, and dined on exotic foods in Arab tents. I had roamed Constantinople’s fabled streets, and bowed before the Holy Roman Emperor’s throne. I had been a slave, a spy, a sailor. Advisor and confidant of lords, I had served Arabs, Byzantines, and barbarians. I had worn captive’s rags, and the silken robes of a Sarazen prince. Once I had held a jeweled knife and taken a life with my own hand. Yes, and once I had held a loving woman in my arms and kissed her warm and willing lips...Death would have been far, far better than the gnawing, aching emptiness that was now my life.

By shifting to a highly digestible, cooked diet, our forebears no longer needed the massive molars and expansive guts that apes need to process fibrous raw foods. And with so much more energy available, we could suddenly afford the metabolic demands of a larger brain.

I used to give X-ray vision a lot of thought because I couldn’t see how it could work. I mean, if you could see through people’s clothing, then surely you would also see through their skin and right into their bodies. You would see blood vessels, pulsing organs, food being digested and pushed through coils of bowel, and much else of a gross and undesirable nature. Even if you could somehow confine your X-rays to rosy epidermis, any body you gazed at wouldn’t be in an appealing natural state, but would be compressed and distorted by unseen foundation garments. The breasts, for one thing, would be oddly constrained and hefted, basketed within an unseen bra, rather than relaxed and nicely jiggly. It wouldn’t be satisfactory at all—or at least not nearly satisfactory enough. Which is why it was necessary to perfect ThunderVision™, a laserlike gaze that allowed me to strip away undergarments without damaging skin or outer clothing. That ThunderVision, stepped up a grade and focused more intensely, could also be used as a powerful weapon to vaporize irritating people was a pleasing but entirely incidental benefit.

Thanks to this availability of suitable wild mammals and plants, early peoples of the Fertile Crescent could quickly assemble a potent and balanced biological package for intensive food production. That package comprised three cereals, as the main carbohydrate sources; four pulses, with 20—25 percent protein, and four domestic animals, as the main protein sources, supplemented by the generous protein content of wheat; and flax as a source of fiber and oil (termed linseed oil: flax seeds are about 40 percent oil). Eventually, thousands of years after the beginnings of animal domestication and food production, the animals also began to be used for milk, wool, plowing, and transport. Thus, the crops and animals of the Fertile Crescent's first farmers came to meet humanity's basic economic needs: carbohydrate, protein, fat, clothing, traction, and transport.

I could hear them and the simple bloodlust that pulsed from them. They lived to kill. Not for hate or power. But still, they killed. They killed because death meant food. Death meant life. Death meant that their blood pounded hotter in their veins, and their flesh grew thicker on their bones. They were simple monsters, but monsters all the same. And they were hungry.

Each buoyant husk surrounds a single fist-sized kernel that is hollow except for a nutritious liquid known to health-food enthusiasts as “coconut water.” Whatever branding specialist coined that term cannot be blamed for shying away from the more accurate, technical description: acellular endosperm.

I'd wondered about the phrase "Hungry Ghost" when Mark first wrote that poem. What did he mean by it? How could ghosts be hungry? But it made perfect sense to me now: The longing for the food you could no longer eat The memory of of having a body. People were constantly giving ghosts food, offerings of persimmons and oranges, pan de muerto on the Day of the Dead; even Halloween was about nothing so much as candy. What the Dead wanted, above all else, was to eat, to cram their mouths full, to feel the calories flood their bloodstream, to be part of it again: life. Bloody, squirming, pulsing, hungry life.

Always, endeavor, Slick, to keep a fix on the addiction industries: you can't lose. The addicts can't win. Dope, Liquor, gambling, anything video--these have to be the deep-money veins. Nowadays the responsible businessman keeps a finger on the pulse of dependence. What next? All projections are targeting the low-energy domestic stuff, the schlep factor. People just can't hack going out any more. They're all addicted to staying at home. Hence the shit-food bonanza. Swallow your chemicals, swallow them fast, and get back inside. Or take the junk back with you. Stay off the streets. Stay inside. With pornography...

beans moreover the Egyptians do not at all sow in their land, and those which grow they neither eat raw nor boil for food; nay the priests do not endure even to look upon them, thinking this to be an unclean kind of pulse:

What a skeletal wreck of man this is. Translucent flesh and feeble bones, the kind of temple where the whores and villains try to tempt the holistic domes. Running rampid with free thought to free form, and the free and clear. When the matters at hand are shelled out like lint at a laundry mat to sift and focus on the bigger, better, now. We all have a little sin that needs venting, virtues for the rending and laws and systems and stems are ripped from the branches of office, do you know where your post entails? Do you serve a purpose, or purposely serve? When in doubt inside your atavistic allure, the value of a summer spent, and a winter earned. For the rest of us, there is always Sunday. The day of the week the reeks of rest, but all we do is catch our breath, so we can wade naked in the bloody pool, and place our hand on the big, black book. To watch the knives zigzag between our aching fingers. A vacation is a countdown, T minus your life and counting, time to drag your tongue across the sugar cube, and hope you get a taste. WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS FOR? WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON? SHUT UP! I can go on and on but lets move on, shall we? Say, your me, and I’m you, and they all watch the things we do, and like a smack of spite they threw me down the stairs, haven’t felt like this in years. The great magnet of malicious magnanimous refuse, let me go, and punch me into the dead spout again. That’s where you go when there’s no one else around, it’s just you, and there was never anyone to begin with, now was there? Sanctimonious pretentious dastardly bastards with their thumb on the pulse, and a finger on the trigger. CLASSIFIED MY ASS! THAT’S A FUCKING SECRET, AND YOU KNOW IT! Government is another way to say better…than…you. It’s like ice but no pick, a murder charge that won’t stick, it’s like a whole other world where you can smell the food, but you can’t touch the silverware. Huh, what luck. Fascism you can vote for. Humph, isn’t that sweet? And we’re all gonna die some day, because that’s the American way, and I’ve drunk too much, and said too little, when your gaffer taped in the middle, say a prayer, say a face, get your self together and see what’s happening. SHUT UP! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I’m sorry, I could go on and on but their times to move on so, remember: you’re a wreck, an accident. Forget the freak, your just nature. Keep the gun oiled, and the temple cleaned shit snort, and blaspheme, let the heads cool, and the engine run. Because in the end, everything we do, is just everything we’ve done.

Doc was collecting marine animals in the Great Tide Pool on the tip of the Peninsula. It is a fabulous place: when the tide is in, a wave-churned basin, creamy with foam, whipped by the combers that roll in from the whistling buoy on the reef. But when the tide goes out the little water world becomes quiet and lovely. The sea is very clear and the bottom becomes fantastic with hurrying, fighting, feeding, breeding animals. Crabs rush from frond to frond of the waving algae. Starfish squat over mussels and limpets, attach their million little suckers and then slowly lift with incredible power until the prey is broken from the rock. And then the starfish stomach comes out and envelops its food. Orange and speckled and fluted nudibranchs slide gracefully over the rocks, their skirts waving like the dresses of Spanish dancers. And black eels poke their heads out of crevices and wait for prey. The snapping shrimps with their trigger claws pop loudly. The lovely, colored world is glassed over. Hermit crabs like frantic children scamper on the bottom sand. And now one, finding an empty snail shell he likes better than his own, creeps out, exposing his soft body to the enemy for a moment, and then pops into the new shell. A wave breaks over the barrier, and churns the glassy water for a moment and mixes bubbles into the pool, and then it clears and is tranquil and lovely and murderous again. Here a crab tears a leg from his brother. The anemones expand like soft and brilliant flowers, inviting any tired and perplexed animal to lie for a moment in their arms, and when some small crab or little tide-pool Johnnie accepts the green and purple invitation, the petals whip in, the stinging cells shoot tiny narcotic needles into the prey and it grows weak and perhaps sleepy while the searing caustic digestive acids melt its body down. Then the creeping murderer, the octopus, steals out, slowly, softly, moving like a gray mist, pretending now to be a bit of weed, now a rock, now a lump of decaying meat while its evil goat eyes watch coldly. It oozes and flows toward a feeding crab, and as it comes close its yellow eyes burn and its body turns rosy with the pulsing color of anticipation and rage. Then suddenly it runs lightly on the tips of its arms, as ferociously as a charging cat. It leaps savagely on the crab, there is a puff of black fluid, and the struggling mass is obscured in the sepia cloud while the octopus murders the crab. On the exposed rocks out of water, the barnacles bubble behind their closed doors and the limpets dry out. And down to the rocks come the black flies to eat anything they can find. The sharp smell of iodine from the algae, and the lime smell of calcareous bodies and the smell of powerful protean, smell of sperm and ova fill the air. On the exposed rocks the starfish emit semen and eggs from between their rays. The smells of life and richness, of death and digestion, of decay and birth, burden the air. And salt spray blows in from the barrier where the ocean waits for its rising-tide strength to permit it back into the Great Tide Pool again. And on the reef the whistling buoy bellows like a sad and patient bull.

This year something else is the terror. The road edging away and then dropping from sight, the judder judder judder as we move from tarmac to dirt. Is Mum crying? I don’t know. Should we ask? No answer to that and, anyway, the house is there now and no time to go back or try again or do things over. This the year we are houses, lights on in every window, doors that won’t quite shut. When one of us speaks we both feel the words moving on our tongues. When one of us eats we both feel the food slipping down our gullets. It would have surprised neither of us to have found, slit open, that we shared organs, that one’s lungs breathed for the both, that a single heart beat a doubling, feverish pulse.

The ocean is like a warm bath. I mount his back and ride him. My thighs squeeze him and pulse with a tingling light. We are lovers. We are married. He swims with incredible strength and we travel quickly. He keeps me safe and I am drunk on his dignity. The smaller bears shrink, only to be eaten by engorged shrimp. The ocean grows hot with life after the offering of food. My skin melts where there is contact with my lover. The ocean and our love fuse the polar bear and me. He is I, his skin is my skin. Our flesh grows together. His face is my pussy and she is hungry. My legs sprout white fur that spreads all over me. I can feel every hair form inside of me and poke through tough bearskin. My whole body absorbs him and we become a new being. I am invincible. Bear mother, rabbit daughter, seal eater. Bear lover, human lover, ice pleaser. I will live another year.

…have poets write about you as if you are alive. Scientifically, it is absolutely true, you are alive. You have a pulse, the waves, and a metabolism, the food chain. A personality, a character, a consciousness, and a sense of purpose…try this- turn into spray, spin rainbows…wear down entire mountains and dump them in layers…gently surround marina sea grass twice a day, protecting and feeding thousands of crabs, ducks, and geese…fill human eyes with warm salt brine at least once a month… Becoming Water

A honey pie, lovingly made. The tiny sugar bee, still perched on the edge of the flaky crust, mocked me. That little bee nibbling on her honey pie. A pulse of sheer heat lit up my sex, licked down my thighs, tweaked my nipples. I shoved another messy bite into my mouth, relishing the taste, wanting...him. This was his work, made with his hands, his skill, his mind. My grumpy man with the ability to create sweetness in the most unexpected of ways. Somehow, at the back of my mind, I'd known from the start. From the way he'd all but ordered me to try his brest. How he'd watched me eat it with that strange intent look upon his face. Pride. That was what it was. He was proud of his work. I ate up my honey pie without pause, devouring it until it was nothing more than a sticky paste on my fingers, buttery crumble on my lips. Moaning, I licked my skin clean like a cat might. I swore I felt claws prickling, aching to come out. Because he had known, and I hadn't. Was it a joke to him? What had he said? The chef was temperamental. Oh, how he must have laughed on the inside at that. With a growl, I washed my hands and headed for the door, half of me more turned on than I'd ever been in my life, the other half ready to tear into the most irritating man I'd ever met.

PAVLOVA 6 egg whites at room temperature (out of the fridge for at least an hour) 1 cup superfine sugar, divided (if you don’t have superfine sugar, you can pulse regular sugar in your food processor) 1 teaspoon cornstarch Squeeze of lemon juice 1 teaspoon vanilla Toppings 1 cup whipping cream 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 teaspoons sugar Sliced strawberries Honey Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and draw a circle 8 to 9 inches in diameter. In a medium bowl, whisk together egg whites and ¾ cup of the sugar until light and fluffy (3 to 5 minutes). In a small bowl, mix together remaining sugar, cornstarch, lemon, and vanilla. Add to egg whites and continue beating until glossy peaks form.

O my body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you, I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the soul, (and that they are the soul,) I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems, and that they are my poems, Man’s, woman’s, child’s, youth’s, wife’s, husband’s, mother’s, father’s, young man’s, young woman’s poems, Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears, Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eyebrows, and the waking or sleeping of the lids, Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw-hinges, Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition, Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck-slue, Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders, and the ample side-round of the chest, Upper-arm, armpit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones, Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, forefinger, finger-joints, finger-nails, Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast-side, Ribs, belly, backbone, joints of the backbone, Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls, man-root, Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above, Leg fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under-leg, Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel; All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your body or of any one’s body, male or female, The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean, The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame, Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity, Womanhood, and all that is a woman, and the man that comes from woman, The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings, The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud, Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming, Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening, The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes, The skin, the sunburnt shade, freckles, hair, The curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body, The circling rivers the breath, and breathing it in and out, The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees, The thin red jellies within you or within me, the bones and the marrow in the bones, The exquisite realization of health; O I say these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul, O I say now these are the soul!

PREACHER’S WIFE PINEAPPLE CASSEROLE (Betts Hager) Ingredients 2 (20-ounce) cans pineapple chunks packed in juice, well-drained 3/4 cup sugar 6 tablespoons self-rising flour (see Note below) 2 cups grated Cheddar cheese 4 ounces Ritz crackers 1 stick butter, melted NOTE: Be sure to use self-rising flour, not all-purpose, as it already has the other necessary ingredients included. Instructions Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray a 2-quart or 8 x 8-inch baking dish with cooking spray. In a medium bowl, mix the sugar and flour. Then, add pineapple and cheese and stir until there are no more dry particles. Spoon this mixture into the prepared baking dish. Crush crackers by pulsing in a food processor and add the melted butter with the machine running until it has the texture of wet sand. Add the crushed cracker mixture to the top of the casserole. Bake about 25 minutes until the top is lightly browned.

He barely heard the gasp escape her lips, but he did see her brilliant brown eyes, how they danced with alarm at his presence, how her lips trembled slightly with what she had done, yes, and now for the glare in his eyes. He knew she could see the hunger they held, he knew she could see, in that moment, just who he truly was...what he was. Yes, Christian knew she could see all these things, knew she could do nothing but bask in the monster that he was. Which was why he was not surprised when she stepped toward him, her shaking lips moving, allowing the low sound of her voice, her sweet, drawing voice, to enter his terribly haunted ears, the ears that caught every breath, heard every pulse of scared heart: “My Lord...your eyes....” “Yes,” he barely whispered, the word hardly escaping his throat. The hunger was all he could feel, her blood all he could smell, the pulse of lust just there beneath her skin, calling him, drawing him ever closer.... And yes, he felt the skin of her neck, felt the blood just there, her blood...his food.

Another common argument is about nutrition from non-veg food. People say that non-veg food has more nutritious and keeps people healthy and strong. But if we go into more details with science and statistics, everybody can understand a simple theory that nobody can grow more than the protein/nutrition it takes in its diet.   So if I consider this, then even a chicken, goat or a bull grows this big only by taking the same nutrition from nature; mostly from grass, beans, leaves pulses and grain. With the demand of non-veg if human can grow this much of food for feeding these animals, it can directly grow the same amount of food for himself. And deficiencies are the reason of imbalance diet, which are found in both vegetarians as well as non-vegetarians, and a balance diet can keep anyone healthy without non-veg too.   One last thing you must have seen around is, human started dyeing of diseases like Bird Flu. Will you still say you keep balance in nature by eating non-veg? And if your answer is yes, then I must say: YOU ARE FUNNY!!!

Of the 200,000 wild plant species, only a few thousand are eaten by humans, and just a few hundred of these have been more or less domesticated. Even of these several hundred crops, most provide minor supplements to our diet and would not by themselves have sufficed to support the rise of civilizations. A mere dozen species account for over 80 percent of the modern world’s annual tonnage of all crops. Those dozen blockbusters are the cereals wheat, corn, rice, barley, and sorghum; the pulse soybean; the roots or tubers potato, manioc, and sweet potato; the sugar sources sugarcane and sugar beet; and the fruit banana. Cereal crops alone now account for more than half of the calories consumed by the world’s human populations. With so few major crops in the world, all of them domesticated thousands of years ago, it’s less surprising that many areas of the world had no wild native plants at all of outstanding potential. Our failure to domesticate even a single major new food plant in modern times suggests that ancient peoples really may have explored virtually all useful wild plants and domesticated all the ones worth domesticating.

Caramel Apple Bundt Cake For people. Cake 1½ cups flour 1 cup pecans 2 teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda 1½ teaspoons cinnamon ¾ teaspoon nutmeg ¾ teaspoon cloves ¼ teaspoon salt 2 medium apples, peeled and cored ½ cup sugar + extra 1¼ sticks (10 tablespoons) butter at room temperature + extra for greasing the pan 1 cup packed dark brown sugar 2 large eggs at room temperature 1 cup applesauce Preheat oven to 350ºF. Place the flour, pecans, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt in a food processor and pulse until the pecans are fine. Transfer the flour mixture to a bowl. Insert the grating disk and grate the apples. Take 1 tablespoon of sugar out of the plain sugar and set it aside. Cream the butter with the sugars. Beat in the eggs. Alternate adding the applesauce and the flour mixture until completely combined. Stir in the grated apples. Grease the Bundt pan liberally. Sprinkle the extra sugar on the butter. You may need another tablespoon of sugar for full coverage. Use a cooking spoon to ladle the batter into the Bundt pan and smooth the top. Bake 40 minutes or until it begins to pull away from the sides and a cake tester comes out clean. Allow to rest on a baking rack about 5 to 10 minutes. Loosen the edges, and flip onto the rack. When cool, top with caramel. Caramel 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 cup packed dark brown sugar ¼ cup heavy cream Place the ingredients in a deep microwave-safe dish (I used a 4-cup Pyrex measuring cup). Microwave in short bursts, stirring occasionally, until it bubbles up and the sugar melts. (You may find that you even like it if the sugar doesn’t melt!) Swedish Tea Ring For people.

Real burrata is a creation of arresting beauty- white and unblemished on the surface, with a swollen belly and a pleated top. The outer skin should be taut and resistant, while the center should give ever so slightly with gentle prodding. Look at the seam on top: As with mozzarella, it should be rough, imperfect, the sign of human hands at work. Cut into the bulge, and the deposit of fresh cream and mozzarella morsels seems to exhale across the plate. The richness of the cream- burrata comes from burro, the Italian word for "butter"- coats the mouth, the morsels of mozzarella detonate one by one like little depth charges, and the entire package pulses with a gentle current of acidity. The brothers, of course, like to put their own spin on burrata. Sometimes that means mixing cubes of fresh mango into its heart. Or Spanish anchovies. Even caviar. Today, Paolo sends me next door to a vegetable stand to buy wild arugula, which he chops and combines with olives and chunks of tuna and stirs into the liquid heart of the burrata, so that each bite registers in waves: sharp, salty, fishy, creamy. It doesn't move me the same way the pure stuff does, but if I lived on a daily diet of burrata, as so many Dicecca customers do, I'd probably welcome a little surprise in the package from time to time. While the Diceccas experiment with what they can put into burrata, the rest of the world rushes to find the next food to put it onto. Don't believe me? According to Yelp, 1,800 restaurants in New York currently serve burrata. In Barcelona, more than 500 businesses have added it to the menu. Burrata burgers, burrata pizza, burrata mac and cheese. Burrata avocado toasts. Burrata kale salads. It's the perfect food for the globalized palate: neutral enough to fit into anything, delicious enough to improve anything.

Dead?” said Caspian. “I think not, Sire,” said Reepicheep, lifting one of their hands out of its tangle of hair in his two paws. “This one is warm and his pulse beats.” “This one, too, and this,” said Drinian. “Why, they’re only asleep,” said Eustace. “It’s been a long sleep, though,” said Edmund, “to let their hair grow like this.” “It must be an enchanted sleep,” said Lucy. “I felt the moment we landed on this island that it was full of magic. Oh! do you think we have perhaps come here to break it?” “We can try,” said Caspian, and began shaking the nearest of the three sleepers. For a moment everyone thought he was going to be successful, for the man breathed hard and muttered, “I’ll go eastward no more. Out oars for Narnia.” But he sank back almost at once into a yet deeper sleep than before: that is, his heavy head sagged a few inches lower toward the table and all efforts to rouse him again were useless. With the second it was much the same. “Weren’t born to live like animals. Get to the east while you’ve a chance--lands behind the sun,” and sank down. And the third only said, “Mustard, please,” and slept hard. “Out ours for Narnia, eh?” said Drinian. “Yes,” said Caspian, “you are right, Drinian. I think our quest is at an end. Let’s look at their rings. Yes, these are their devices. This is the Lord Revilian. This is the Lord Argoz: and this, the Lord Mavramorn.” “But we can’t wake them,” said Lucy. “What are we to do?” “Begging your Majesties’ pardons all,” said Rhince, “but why not fall to while you’re discussing it? We don’t see a dinner like this every day.” “Not for your life!” said Caspian. “That’s right, that’s right,” said several of the sailors. “Too much magic about here. The sooner we’re back on board the better.” “Depend upon it,” said Reepicheep, “it was from eating this food that these three lords came by a seven years’ sleep.” “I wouldn’t touch it to save my life,” said Drinian.

STRAWBERRY SHORTBREAD BAR COOKIES Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.   Hannah’s 1st Note: These are really easy and fast to make. Almost everyone loves them, including Baby Bethie, and they’re not even chocolate! 3 cups all purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) ¾ cup powdered (confectioner’s) sugar (don’t sift un- less it’s got big lumps) 1 and ½ cups salted butter, softened (3 sticks, 12 ounces, ¾ pound) 1 can (21 ounces) strawberry pie filling (I used Comstock)*** *** - If you can’t find strawberry pie filling, you can use another berry filling, like raspberry, or blueberry. You can also use pie fillings of larger fruits like peach, apple, or whatever. If you do that, cut the fruit pieces into smaller pieces so that each bar cookie will have some. I just put my apple or peach pie filling in the food processor with the steel blade and zoop it up just short of being pureed. I’m not sure about using lemon pie filling. I haven’t tried that yet. FIRST STEP: Mix the flour and the powdered sugar together in a medium-sized bowl. Cut in the softened butter with a two knives or a pastry cutter until the resulting mixture resembles bread crumbs or coarse corn meal. (You can also do this in a food processor using cold butter cut into chunks that you layer between the powdered sugar and flour mixture and process with the steel blade, using an on-and-off pulsing motion.) Spread HALF of this mixture (approximately 3 cups will be fine) into a greased (or sprayed with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray) 9-inch by 13-inch pan. (That’s a standard size rectangular cake pan.) Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn golden brown. Remove the pan to a wire rack or a cold burner on the stove, but DON’T TURN OFF THE OVEN! Let the crust cool for 5 minutes. SECOND STEP: Spread the pie filling over the top of the crust you just baked. Sprinkle the crust with the other half of the crust mixture you saved. Try to do this as evenly as possible. Don’t worry about little gaps in the topping. It will spread out and fill in a bit as it bakes. Gently press the top crust down with the flat blade of a metal spatula. Bake the cookie bars at 350 degrees F. for another 30 to 35 minutes, or until the top is lightly golden. Turn off the oven and remove the pan to a wire rack or a cold burner to cool completely. When the bars are completely cool, cover the pan with foil and refrigerate them until you’re ready to cut them. (Chilling them makes them easier to cut.) When you’re ready to serve them, cut the Strawberry Shortbread Bar Cookies into brownie-sized pieces, arrange them on a pretty platter, and if you like, sprinkle the top with extra powdered sugar.

Masala paste 2 teaspoons garam masala or curry powder 2 teaspoons red pepper flakes 2 teaspoons smoked paprika 1 teaspoon cumin seeds, toasted and ground 1 teaspoon coriander seed, toasted and ground 3/4-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and grated 1 tablespoon peanut oil 2 tablespoons tomato paste Salt and pepper A handful of fresh cilantro Curry 11/2 tablespoons peanut oil 1 red onion, diced 1 clove garlic, minced 2 tablespoons masala paste (from above) One 14-ounce/400g can diced tomatoes 1 cup/250ml vegetable stock 7 ounces/200g red lentils, rinsed 7 ounces/200g baby spinach leaves 2 tablespoons unflavored low-fat yogurt Rye Barley Roti (recipe follows), for serving Pulse the masala paste ingredients in a mini food processor till well combined and fairly smooth.

So the Badarians stored their harvests in large clay bins within their desert settlements, where they also ground their grain as they required and sometimes, too, they turned their flour to bread, for loaves were found in several of their graves. A form of porridge also appears to have been a common food, ladled out of the cooking pots into hand-sized bowls from which it was consumed, perhaps, with the aid of the delicately made spoons of bone and horn and ivory which were also buried with the dead. Meat too, was on the menu, and in generous quantities. Alongside their domesticated herds of oxen, sheep and goats, hunting and gathering were still considerable activities; the bones of birds and fish were also plentiful inside the settlements, as were wild seeds and pulses and the roots of reeds and grasses, some of which could be as sweet as filberts whilst others would have been so fragrant yet so bitter that they could only have served as perfume.

For dinner, he serves dishes such as raw local fish accented with touches like fresh basil and balsamic vinegar; roasted pumpkin soup laced with ishiri; fat, chewy handmade spaghetti with tender rings of squid on a puddle of ink enhanced with another few drops of fish sauce. It's what Italian food would be if Italy were a windswept peninsula in the Far East. If dinner is Ben's personal take on Noto ingredients, breakfast still belongs to his in-laws. It's an elaborate a.m. feast, fierce in flavor, rich in history, dense with centuries of knowledge passed from one generation to the next: soft tofu dressed with homemade soy and yuzu chili paste; soup made with homemade miso and simmered fish bones; shiso leaves fermented kimchi-style, with chilies and ishiri; kaibe, rice mixed with ishiri and fresh baby squid, pressed into patties and grilled slowly over a charcoal fire; yellowtail fermented for six months, called the blue cheese of the sea for its lactic funk. The mix of plates will change from one morning to the next but will invariably include a small chunk of konka saba, mackerel fermented for up to five years, depending on the day you visit. Even when it's broken into tiny pieces and sprinkled over rice, the years of fermentation will pulse through your body like an electric current.

This is Reid. Reid, my stupid best friend who I cuddle on the couch with. The one who makes weird faces and eats my food. He’s not the guy that makes my heart race. He’s never been that guy. Not even shirtless. But right now, my chest is tight and my pulse is through the roof.

But then his tongue moved over me and started to lick the whipped cream over my sex, making my legs fall open, swiping the creamy coolness down and over my cleft, making a long, ragged moan escape me, dragging a rumbling sound from his chest that made another rush of wet pool as his mouth closed over my clit and sucked hard. Then he devoured me, drove me up fast and unrelenting until the orgasm started to crest, seeming to start at the base of my spine and exploding outward until it took over whole body, making me cry out his name as he took possession of my clit and sucked it in pulses as the waves washed over me, dragging it out, intensifying everything. As soon as the waves lessened, he released me and licked a line back upward, taking the whipped cream off my breasts then pressing up to balance over me, wicked look in his eyes. "Tell me." "Tell you what?" I asked, brain nothing but sparking misfirings right then. He smiled at that, either delighted with his prowess or glad to torture me more. Or, more likely, both. I grabbed the can of whipped cream as I moved to straddle him, watching as his eyes went knowing just a second before I started making a line down his stomach with the cream, then down the little happy trail, over his balls, and then up the underside of his cock until there was a large amount on the swollen head. Then I tossed the can to the side and gave him a smile before ducking my head and starting my path down, deciding that while foreplay was always good, it was infinitely better with food involved as my tongue licked the cream off his balls then his shaft before closing my lips around the head and licking it off from there as well, making Brant let out a deep, primal groan that spurred me on, made me work him faster, deeper. "Maddy..." he warned, but I didn't need a warning. I wanted to make him come. I wanted to give him the selfless orgasm he gave me. "Fuck," he growled, his hand crushing into the back of my head as he came down my throat. I worked him for a long moment before letting him slide away, looking up at him to find an intense weight in his gaze. "From now on, we only ever eat dessert off of each other," he said a second later, his hand going under my chin and pulling me until I moved to straddle him, bringing my face close to his. "I can get behind that plan," I agreed with a smile before he yanked me forward and our lips crashed together. It wasn't a slow, sweet, post-orgasm kiss. It was still wild, hungry, primal. It said we weren't done. "Come on," he said when he pulled away, a little out of breath. "Let's go take a shower. That was hot as fuck but we're both sticky now." Thank God. I didn't want to complain, but every time I moved, my skin got stuck to his skin and it was weird and decidedly unsexy. I went to move off him, but his arms went to slip around my lower back, holding me to him as he stood and started walking around the house. Then up the stairs. I was generally not the kind of girl who got carried around. I was fit, sure, but I was tall and leggy and most guys wanted to carry around the short, lithe little women. But since Brant was a huge wall of muscle, he didn't seem bothered by my height and less than dainty limbs. He set me on my feet outside the shower and reached in to put the water on, water I knew would take a couple of minutes to warm up. But he stepped in regardless, cursing at the cold spray. "Yeah, I think not," I said when he looked at me expectantly. I should have known to step away. I really should have. But I didn't and the next thing I knew, he was yanking me in with him, making me let out a string of incredibly unladylike curses before I felt the water get warmer against my back.

For people, the pulse of abundance felt like a gift, a profusion of food to be simply picked up from the ground.

GEORGIAN BEET SALAD Put boiled beets, pitted prunes, garlic, walnuts, and sour cream in a food processor and pulse to a grainy paste. Garnish with rough-chopped walnuts and cilantro. Serve with crusty bread.

The first Superfortress reached Tokyo just after midnight, dropping flares to mark the target area. Then came the onslaught. Hundreds of planes—massive winged mechanical beasts roaring over Tokyo, flying so low that the entire city pulsed with the booming of their engines. The US military’s worries about the city’s air defenses proved groundless: the Japanese were completely unprepared for an attacking force coming in at five thousand feet. The full attack lasted almost three hours; 1,665 tons of napalm were dropped. LeMay’s planners had worked out in advance that this many firebombs, dropped in such tight proximity, would create a firestorm—a conflagration of such intensity that it would create and sustain its own wind system. They were correct. Everything burned for sixteen square miles. Buildings burst into flame before the fire ever reached them. Mothers ran from the fire with their babies strapped to their backs only to discover—when they stopped to rest—that their babies were on fire. People jumped into the canals off the Sumida River, only to drown when the tide came in or when hundreds of others jumped on top of them. People tried to hang on to steel bridges until the metal grew too hot to the touch, and then they fell to their deaths. After the war, the US Strategic Bombing Survey concluded: “Probably more persons lost their lives by fire at Tokyo in a six-hour period than at any time in the history of man.” As many as 100,000 people died that night. The aircrews who flew that mission came back shaken. [According to historian] Conrad Crane: “They’re about five thousand feet, they are pretty low... They are low enough that the smell of burning flesh permeates the aircraft...They actually have to fumigate the aircraft when they land back in the Marianas, because the smell of burning flesh remains within the aircraft. (...) The historian Conrad Crane told me: I actually gave a presentation in Tokyo about the incendiary bombing of Tokyo to a Japanese audience, and at the end of the presentation, one of the senior Japanese historians there stood up and said, “In the end, we must thank you, Americans, for the firebombing and the atomic bombs.” That kind of took me aback. And then he explained: “We would have surrendered eventually anyway, but the impact of the massive firebombing campaign and the atomic bombs was that we surrendered in August.” In other words, this Japanese historian believed: no firebombs and no atomic bombs, and the Japanese don’t surrender. And if they don’t surrender, the Soviets invade, and then the Americans invade, and Japan gets carved up, just as Germany and the Korean peninsula eventually were. Crane added, The other thing that would have happened is that there would have been millions of Japanese who would have starved to death in the winter. Because what happens is that by surrendering in August, that givesMacArthur time to come in with his occupation forces and actually feedJapan...I mean, that’s one of MacArthur’s great successes: bringing in a massive amount of food to avoid starvation in the winter of 1945.He is referring to General Douglas MacArthur, the supreme commander for the Allied powers in the Pacific. He was the one who accepted theJapanese emperor’s surrender.Curtis LeMay’s approach brought everyone—Americans and Japanese—back to peace and prosperity as quickly as possible. In 1964, the Japanese government awarded LeMay the highest award their country could give a foreigner, the First-Class Order of Merit of the Grand Cordon of the Rising Sun, in appreciation for his help in rebuilding the Japanese Air Force. “Bygones are bygones,” the premier of Japan said at the time.

Sweet Potato Black Bean Burger TOTAL COOK TIME: 35 MINUTES | MAKES 4 SERVINGS This burger is a longevity powerhouse. Loaded with beans, greens, sweet potatoes, and pepitas, it’s the perfect example of a blue zones–inspired twist on a classic American comfort food. The Patty and Buns: 1½ cups rolled oats 1 cup peeled, mashed, cooked sweet potato 1 cup mashed black beans ½ teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons onion powder 1 teaspoon ground cumin 1 teaspoon smoked paprika ½ teaspoon black pepper ½ teaspoon chipotle powder, optional Oil for cooking 4 whole wheat burger buns The Sauce: ¼ cup toasted pepitas ¼ cup good-quality salsa verde The Toppings: 1 avocado, sliced ½ cup loosely packed sliced kale Pickled or thinly sliced raw red onion* To make the patties, pulse the rolled oats in a food processor until coarsely ground and set aside. Combine the sweet potato, black beans, salt, and spices; then incorporate the ground oats. Let this sit for about 5 minutes so flavors can marry. Form the mixture into 4 patties. In a skillet, heat a thin layer of oil over medium heat. Add the patties and fry on both sides until crisped, about 4 minutes per side. To make the sauce: Puree the pepitas and salsa verde in a food processor or blender and set aside. Build your burger: Mash the avocado and spread on the bottom bun. Then, add your patty and top with the pepita sauce. Finish off the burger with kale and red onion, then the top bun. *To pickle red onions, submerge them in white vinegar with a generous pinch of salt for at least 6 hours.

Anguished (forlorn, depressed, pitiful): Sweating; racing pulse; feeling of suffocating; trembling; palpitations; extreme uneasiness; a sense of being defenceless and powerless to deal with a danger that seems vague but imminent; becoming focused on the present and unable to perform more than one task at a time; signs of muscle tension and difficulty breathing, as well as digesting food; restlessness or "edginess"; fatigue; problems with concentration; irritability or moodiness; tension; problems associated with sleep. Anticipate

and refrigerate. Tip: Serve this with veggies, crackers, or rice cakes, or try on Sunny Day Flatbread (here) for lunch. Nottingham Sandwich Spread By Jane Esselstyn Say the word “Nottingham” slowly three times. The sound should be reminiscent of “Not-Eating-Ham.” This recipe is by no means a ham spread, but it sure does have the consistency and texture of one! Try this on none other than the Nottingham Flatbread (here) for lunch. Prep time: 10 minutes • Makes 1½ cups spread 1 cup chickpeas, mashed with fork ¼ cup chopped onion ¼ cup chopped pickles or pickle relish 1 celery stalk, finely chopped 1½ tablespoons mustard 1½ tablespoons applesauce ½ teaspoon fresh dill, chopped Pinch of salt Pinch of freshly ground black pepper Mix all of the ingredients in a bowl using a fork—make sure to smash the chickpeas. Spread on sandwiches, or serve as a dip. Spinach-Artichoke Dip and Spread By Kimetha Wurster Kimetha used to make her patented spinach-artichoke dip every February for a friend’s birthday party. True to her new, dairy-free E2 lifestyle, she was determined to make the recipe dairy-free, too. The guests had no idea it wasn’t the traditional one and gobbled it up. And there’s no baking necessary. Try this on the St. Nick Pizza (here) for lunch or dinner. Prep time: 10 minutes • Makes around 4 cups dip 14 ounces artichoke hearts, packed in water 2 to 6 garlic cloves 9 ounces fresh spinach, or 1½ cups frozen spinach 1 ripe avocado 1 cup nutritional yeast 6 shakes hot sauce Pinch of freshly ground black pepper (optional) Pinch of salt (optional) In a food processor or blender, pulse the drained artichokes with garlic until chopped. Add the raw spinach (or drained frozen), avocado, and nutritional yeast and pulse until well mixed. Shake in the hot sauce and season with salt and pepper as desired, and pulse again. Transfer to a bowl and serve with 100 percent whole wheat crackers or veggies,

½ teaspoon sea salt 5 eggs, separated ¼ cup butter or coconut oil, melted 1 tablespoon buttermilk or coconut milk (canned or carton variety) Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease an 8½" x 4½" loaf pan. In a food processor, combine the baking mix, baking powder, and salt. Pulse until well blended. Add the egg yolks, butter or coconut oil, and

BEET HUMMUS 3-4 large beets, preferably red 2 sprigs thyme 1 tsp. rubbed sage 3 Tbsp. olive oil, divided 6 cloves garlic, chopped and divided Juice from 1 lemon 1 Tbsp. tahini 1 (15 oz.) can Northern beans Salt, to taste Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Skin the beets with a vegetable peeler and chop into quarters. Place on a roasting sheet with the thyme, sage, a tablespoon of oil and about › of the chopped garlic. Cover with foil and roast until soft, about 40 minutes. Place the roasted beets in a food processor along with the remaining garlic and olive oil, as well as the lemon juice. Pulse until pureed and add the tahini, beans and a hearty pinch of salt. Pulse to combine, and then taste. Add additional salt, lemon juice or garlic to taste. Makes about 3 cups. Serve with sliced baguette.

stuffed mushrooms Makes 12–20, depending on mushroom size 10 ounces baby bella or white mushrooms, stems removed and reserved ¼ cup seasoned bread crumbs 1 tablespoon light cream cheese Salt and pepper 1 tablespoon grated Parmesan cheese, plus additional for topping Pinch dry mustard ½ teaspoon Italian seasoning ½ small garlic clove 1 tablespoon shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese 2 tablespoons grated fontina cheese 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 tablespoon melted unsalted butter 1 tablespoon frozen spinach, defrosted and squeezed dry Mini 1. Preheat oven to 400°F, and prepare as many mini muffin cups as you have mushrooms (since sizes vary) by spraying with cooking spray. 2. Place one mushroom cap in each muffin cup. 3. Place remaining ingredients and 4 mushroom stems in food processor and pulse until completely mixed. 4. Divide mixture among the mushroom caps. 5. Cover with foil and bake 20 minutes, until mushrooms are cooked through. 6. Remove from oven, remove foil, and

Symptoms of weak spleen-pancreas qi: loose stools, general weakness, fatigue, pale tongue with a thin white coating, weak pulse, and any of the other general signs of spleen-pancreas imbalance listed above. Imbalances commonly caused by weak spleen-pancreas qi include food sensitivities, nervous indigestion, anemia, chronic diarrhea or dysentery, ulcers, and pain in the upper abdomen.

one at a time. Beat in the lemon juice and vanilla extract. Combine the flour, salt, and baking soda in a small bowl. Add ⅓ of the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, alternating with adding ⅓ of the buttermilk. (I used a cup of milk with one tablespoon of cider vinegar instead of buttermilk.)  Pulse in the chopped strawberries until they are small pieces and the batter begins to look pink. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 40 minutes until a toothpick stuck in the center comes out dry.

CHIMICHURRI SAUCE With a knife or food processor finely chop a bunch of flat-leaf parsley, an entire head of peeled garlic, and one medium carrot. Add olive oil, white wine vinegar, salt, dried oregano, hot pepper flakes, and black pepper, and chop or pulse into a thick sauce. Best served fresh.

Emma set the tray across his lap, he made no move to pick up his spoon or fork. “It’s been a long day,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure I want to make the effort to eat.” She sank into the chair beside the bed. “But you must eat,” she replied. “You’ll never get your strength back if you don’t.” Steven lifted one shoulder in a dispirited shrug and looked away. After drawing a deep breath and letting it out again, Emma reached for his fork, stabbed a piece of Daisy’s meat pie, with its thick, flaky crust, and raised it to Steven’s lips. He smiled wanly and allowed her to feed him. In fact, it seemed to Emma that he was enjoying this particular moment of incapacity. The experience was oddly sensual for Emma; she found herself getting lost in the graceful mechanics of it. When Steven grasped her hand, very gently, and lightly kissed her palm, the fork slipped from her fingers and clattered to the tray. Her breasts swelled as she drew in a quick, fevered breath. Steven trailed his lips over the delicate flesh on the inner side of her forearm until he reached her elbow. When his tongue touched her at the crux, the pleasure was so swift and so keen that she flinched and gave a soft moan. His eyes locked with hers and he told her, without speaking aloud, that there were other places on her body he wanted to kiss. Places he fully intended to explore and master. Emma took hold of the tray with a hasty, awkward movement and bolted to her feet, feeling hot and achy all over. “Well,” she said with a brightness that was entirely false, “if you’re not hungry any longer…” “I didn’t say that, Miss Emma,” he interrupted, his voice as rough as gravel. “It’s just that it isn’t food I’m hungry for.” Only her fierce grasp on the sides of the tray kept Emma from dropping it to the floor—plate, cup, leftover food, and all. “What a scandalous remark!” Steven smiled and stretched, wincing a little at the resultant pain. “I can think of plenty of ‘scandalous’ remarks,” he said, “if you’d like to hear more.” Emma was painfully conscious of the pulse at the inside of her elbow, where Steven had kissed her. A number of other fragile points, such as the backs of her knees and the arches of her feet, tingled in belated response. “Good night, Mr. Fairfax,” she said, with feigned dignity. And then she turned and walked out of the room.

Historically, many cultures from around the world obtained the vast majority of protein calories from plants and not animals—either wild or domestic [99,100]. Consumption of high-protein plant foods such as soy, pulses, cereals and tubers can satisfy protein requirements that are associated with fewer environmental impacts than livestock or wild meat, while yielding significant human health benefits [100–102].

Carbohydrate: optimum nutrition guidelines Eat whole foods – whole grains, lentils, beans, nuts, seeds, fresh fruit and vegetables – and avoid refined, white and overcooked foods. Eat four or five servings of vegetables a day, including dark green, leafy and root vegetables such as watercress, carrots, sweet potatoes, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, spinach, green beans or peppers, either raw or lightly cooked. Eat three or more servings a day of fresh fruit, preferably apples, pears, oranges, plums and/or berries. Eat four or more servings a day of whole grains such as rice, rye, oat flakes and oat cakes, corn and quinoa as cereal, breads, pasta or pulses. Avoid any form of sugar, added sugar, and white or refined foods. Dilute fruit juices and only eat dried fruit infrequently in small quantities.

Characteristic symptoms of stagnation or torpor include swollen, flabby, apathetic, weak tissues. The tissues show a “want of expression” as Scudder remarks. This extends to the face. “The patient is dull and apathetic, the eye dull, the face expressionless, the tongue somewhat full, and the pulse lacks sharpness in the wave—oppressed” (Scudder, 1874, 303, 314). Lack of expression is one of the most characteristic symptoms of hypothyroidism. The leading symptom of bad blood is a tendency to hangover conditions and feelings, because the liver and lymph system cannot handle heavy or toxic foods and excesses of various kinds, including exercise.

Hold still." Emma squirmed again, her lush lips curving in a smile as she gazed up at me coyly. "But it tickles." My dick pulsed, sheer lust twisting my insides up in knots. But I kept my hands steady. "Almost there." I piped another series of rosettes along the curve of her breast, heading for the pretty little pouting nipple, now deep pink and stiff. Her breath hitched, and I gave her a wicked smile. "Be good, or I won't lick it off." "Liar. You can't wait." She was laid out on my bed, wearing nothing but the lemon-buttercream flowers and swirls I'd decorated her lovely body with. "Guilty as charged." My mouth actually watered with the need to taste her, mix her flavors with my cream. Fuck up into the tight, silky-hot clasp of her body, where it felt both like home and the best pleasure I'd ever had in my life. My hand shook a little as I circled her perky nipple, choosing to highlight rather than cover it. Emma bit her bottom lip, her lids lowering as she subtly arched into the tip of the pastry bag. Heat rippled through me, and I tossed the buttercream aside. "Now, where to start?" I wanted it all at once. Every delectable inch of her. Always. All the time. Impatient and aching, I stroked my shaft, keeping the hold light lest I blow now. Because nothing looked more delicious than Emma Maron spread out before me, smiling in that way that said she was all mine. Happiness warred with lust, making for a heady cocktail in my veins. I had Emma right where I wanted her----with me. Everything else took a back seat to her and the way she watched me palm my dick, all greedy need and anticipation. It fueled my own.

flor de jamaica If you’re looking for a very mocktail-esque nonalcoholic beverage, this might be the one. Little Pine’s favorite tea, hibiscus, is bolstered here by ginger beer, aka a teetotaler’s best friend, and finished simply with lime juice. I can almost promise you that if you keep the Flor de Jamaica on tap all summer long, you’ll discover a popularity heretofore unknown. TIME: 3 MINUTES SERVES: 1 ⅓ cup dried hibiscus flowers ⅓ cup sugar 1 ounce fresh lime juice 2 ounces (¼ cup) Iced Hibiscus Tea Ginger beer Lime wheel, for garnish Place the hibiscus flowers and sugar in a food processor. Pulse until the flowers are pulverized. (Be certain to use the pulse method to ensure the sugar doesn’t melt or heat up.) Pour the hibiscus sugar onto a small plate and set aside. Pour the lime juice and hibiscus tea into a pint glass. Add ice to fill the glass. Top off the glass with ginger beer. Cut a small notch in the lime wheel. Following the line of the notch, coat half the wheel in the hibiscus sugar by carefully and evenly pressing that half into the plate of hibiscus sugar. Position the lime wheel on the edge of the glass. Serve and enjoy.

The following are all foods you should feel welcome to eat freely (unless, of course, you know they bother your stomach): Alliums (Onions, Leeks, Garlic, Scallions): This category of foods, in particular, is an excellent source of prebiotics and can be extremely nourishing to our bugs. If you thought certain foods were lacking in flavor, try sautéing what you think of as that “boring” vegetable or tofu with any member of this family and witness the makeover. Good-quality olive oil, sesame oil, or coconut oil can all help with the transformation of taste. *Beans, Legumes, and Pulses: This family of foods is one of the easiest ways to get a high amount of fiber in a small amount of food. You know how beans make some folks a little gassy? That’s a by-product of our bacterial buddies chowing down on that chili you just consumed for dinner. Don’t get stuck in a bean rut. Seek out your bean aisle or peruse the bulk bin at your local grocery store and see if you can try for three different types of beans each week. Great northern, anyone? Brightly Colored Fruits and Vegetables: Not only do these gems provide fiber, but they are also filled with polyphenols that increase diversity in the gut and offer anti-inflammatory compounds that are essential for disease prevention and healing. Please note that white and brown are colors in this category—hello, cauliflower, daikon radish, and mushrooms! Good fungi are particularly anti-inflammatory, rich in beta-glucans, and a good source of the immune-supportive vitamin D. Remember that variety is key here. Just because broccoli gets a special place in the world of superfoods doesn’t mean that you should eat only broccoli. Branch out: How about trying bok choy, napa cabbage, or an orange pepper? Include a spectrum of color on your plate and make sure that some of these vegetables are periodically eaten raw or lightly steamed, which may have greater benefits to your microbiome. Herbs and Spices: Not only incredibly rich in those anti-inflammatory polyphenols, this category of foods also has natural digestive-aid properties that can help improve the digestibility of certain foods like beans. They can also stimulate the production of bile, an essential part of our body’s mode of breaking down fat. Plus, they add pizzazz to any meal. Nuts, Seeds, and Their Respective Butters: This family of foods provides fiber, and it is also a good source of healthy and anti-inflammatory fats that help keep the digestive tract balanced and nourished. It’s time to step out of that almond rut and seek out new nutty experiences. Walnuts have been shown to confer excellent benefits on the microbiome because of their high omega-3 and polyphenol content. And if you haven’t tasted a buttery hemp seed, also rich in omega-3s and fantastic atop oatmeal, here’s your opportunity. Starchy Vegetables: These hearty vegetables are a great source of fiber and beneficial plant chemicals. When slightly cooled, they are also a source of something called resistant starch, which feeds the bacteria and enables them to create those fantabulous short-chain fatty acids. These include foods like potatoes, winter squash, and root vegetables like parsnips, beets, and rutabaga. When was the last time you munched on rutabaga? This might be your chance! Teas: This can be green, white, or black tea, all of which contain healthy anti-inflammatory compounds that are beneficial for our microbes and overall gut health. It can also be herbal tea, which is an easy way to add overall health-supportive nutrients to our diet without a lot of additional burden on our digestive system. Unprocessed Whole Grains: These are wonderful complex carbohydrates (meaning fiber-filled), which both nourish those gut bugs and have numerous vitamins and minerals that support our health. Branch out and try some new ones like millet, buckwheat, and amaranth. FOODS TO EAT IN MODERATION

They were complete little people talking to her from a mind she knew nothing about and would have to learn to apprehend; although this person had grown in her body, had torn it emerging, had once shared pulse and food and blood and joy and grief, it was now a separate person whose innards, mind and spirit and emotion, she would never completely comprehend. It was as if one weren't born suddenly, but progressively; as if each birth were also a death, each step they made in development moving them further away from her, from their oneness with her, and in time, far, far from her, they would merge with others, have children themselves, join and separate, until the final separation, which would also be a birth into a new mode.

hibiscus mimosa The hibiscus mimosa is lovely in its simplicity, a beautiful mix of prosecco and hibiscus that begs for a toast (or to be served alongside toast, at brunch). Sub in a nonalcoholic sparkling wine for kids and teetotalers. TIME: 3 MINUTES SERVES: 1 ⅓ cup dried hibiscus flowers ⅓ cup sugar 1 lemon wedge Prosecco ½ ounce hibiscus syrup (from one 8.8-ounce jar of hibiscus flowers in syrup) ½ ounce fresh lemon juice Hibiscus flower (from one 8.8-ounce jar of hibiscus flowers in syrup), for garnish Combine the hibiscus flowers and sugar in a food processor. Pulse until the flowers are pulverized. (Be certain to use the pulse method to ensure the sugar doesn’t melt or heat up.) Pour the hibiscus sugar onto a small plate. Rub the rim of a champagne flute with the lemon wedge. Dip the rim in the hibiscus sugar and twist it to coat. Fill the rimmed champagne flute halfway with prosecco, making certain to tilt the glass when pouring the prosecco to ensure the liquid does not overflow. Add the hibiscus syrup and lemon juice; stir with a barspoon. Use a barspoon to add a hibiscus flower to the bottom of the glass. Top off with additional prosecco. Serve and enjoy.

Noryangjin is a wholesale market where you can choose live fish and seafood from the tanks of different vendors and have them sent up to be prepared in a number of cooking styles at restaurants upstairs. My mother and I were with her two sisters, Nami and Eunmi, and they had picked out pounds of abalone, scallops, sea cucumber, amberjack, octopus, and king crab to eat raw and boiled in spicy soups. Upstairs, our table filled immediately with banchan dotting around the butane burner for our stew. The first dish to arrive was sannakji---live long-armed octopus. A plate full of gray-and-white tentacles wriggled before me, freshly severed from their head, every suction cup still pulsing.

Instructions 1. In a food processor, pulse together the flour, sugar, salt, butter, and vegetable shortening until the mixture looks golden and resembles coarse cornmeal. 2. Pour the flour mixture into a large bowl. Add the ice water one tablespoon at a time, lightly fluffing the mixture with your fingers. Add ice water to the mixture until the dough just begins to come together. (I always mix the water by hand so I have more control.) If you are not sure, try squeezing a little of the dough together in your hand. If it clumps, you are done. 3. Gather the dough into a ball, divide it into two pieces, then flatten the pieces into discs. Wrap the discs in plastic and put them in the refrigerator to rest for at least 1 hour. 4. Roll out the two pieces of pie dough. There are two main tricks to rolling out pie dough: One is to not use too much flour—you can always add a bit more if the dough is sticking to the table, but you can’t take it away. The other is to never roll the dough out using a back-and-forth motion. Always work from the center and roll out. That will keep you from working the gluten too much. Use one dough disc to line a 9" deep-dish pie pan. Place the second rolled-out dough on a cookie sheet. Place both discs back in the refrigerator to rest.

6. Transfer the vegetable mixture to a large food processor. Add the cooked lentils, chickpeas, oats, parsley, basil, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper and pulse until combined (you want a coarse, not mushy, consistency), scraping down the sides of the bowl several times. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and add the eggs, bread crumbs, and Parmesan cheese. Mix by hand until fully incorporated. Refrigerate the meatball mixture for 30 minutes.

Scarborough, ME, and Hobe Sound, FL. Thank you, Paula! Ingredients: 1-1/2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal (not quick cooking type), divided use 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tsp. baking powder 1 tsp. baking soda 1 tsp. salt 2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened 1 cup granulated sugar 1 cup firmly packed light-brown sugar 1 tbsp. vanilla extract 3/4 cup chunky peanut butter 2 large eggs 2 cups semisweet chocolate chips 8 oz. semisweet chocolate, grated (may substitute 8 oz. semisweet chocolate chips and process until finely ground in food processor) Directions: Place 1 cup oatmeal in bowl of food processor; pulse until finely ground. Transfer to a large bowl and add remaining 1/2 cup whole oatmeal, flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Reserve. In another large bowl, combine butter and both sugars and beat on medium speed of electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla and peanut butter. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually beat in reserved oat/flour mixture. Add chocolate chips and grated chocolate, beating just until combined. Chill cookie dough, covered, at least 2 hours and up to 1 week. Form rounded tablespoons of dough into balls and arrange about 2 inches apart on parchment-lined sheet pans. Flatten balls slightly and bake in a preheated 325°F oven in batches in middle of oven 15-17 minutes or until just slightly firm—do not overbake! Cool cookies 5 minutes and transfer to racks to cool completely. Yield: 4-1/2 dozen cookies.

Serves 2 Prep time: 10 minutes Cook time: 15 minutes Total time: 25 minutes 1 head cauliflower, cut into florets (about 4 cups) 2 cloves garlic, minced ½ cup coconut cream 2 tablespoons ghee or clarified butter 1 teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon black pepper ½ cup chicken broth 1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley This may be the most versatile recipe ever. It’s a lighter substitute for mashed potatoes, and has dozens of variations to match nearly any style of cuisine. Add more chicken broth if you like it extra creamy, or keep the chicken broth to just a tablespoon or so if you prefer it really thick. Try topping with crumbled Whole30-compliant bacon or crispy prosciutto; add a blend of fresh herbs like rosemary, oregano, and thyme; kick it up a notch with 2 tablespoons of grated, peeled fresh horseradish root or 1 teaspoon chili powder; add a dollop of whole grain mustard (perfect alongside pork); or stir in shredded cabbage and kale sautéed in clarified butter or ghee. Bring 2 cups of water to a boil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the cauliflower florets and garlic and simmer until the florets are fork-tender, about 15 minutes. Drain the cauliflower and transfer to a food processor. Add the coconut cream, ghee, salt, and pepper and pulse until the cauliflower begins to turn smooth in consistency. Add the chicken broth one tablespoon at a time, pulsing to mix, until the desired consistency is achieved. Add the parsley and continue blending until completely smooth. Serve warm. Make It a Meal: This dish goes well with anything. Seriously, anything. But if you made us pick a few favorites, we’d say Braised Beef Brisket, Chicken Meatballs, Halibut with Citrus-Ginger Glaze, and Walnut-Crusted Pork Tenderloin. ✪Mashing You can use a variety of tools for this dish, depending on how you prefer the texture of your mash. If you prefer a silky smooth mash, the food processor is a must. If you like it really chunky, use a hand tool (like a potato masher or large kitchen fork) instead. If you like your mash somewhere in between, try using an immersion blender.

Ready for the diet and lifestyle recommendations of the most comprehensive review of the literature by an unbiased panel of the best-regarded experts in the world? Here goes: 1. Be as lean as possible, within the normal range of body weight. [Aim for the lower end of normal body mass index (BMI). In this book, we have seen that a plant-based diet is the best way to maintain low body weight.] 2. Be physically active as part of everyday life. 3. Limit consumption of energy-dense foods. Avoid sugary foods. [In other words, eat foods low in fat and high in fiber and water content. Foods low in fat and high in fiber are plant foods, not animal proteins.] 4. Eat mostly foods of plant origins. [The personal recommendation within this public health goal is to have at least five servings of fruits and veggies each day, and include pulses and unprocessed cereals with every meal.] 5. Limit intake of red meat and avoid processed meat. [The public health goal within the recommendation is to consume less than 300 grams (2/3 of a pound) per week. Being completely vegetarian does reduce cancer risk, but we can’t rule out the possibility that the difference is due to other aspects of a healthy lifestyle.] 6. Limit alcoholic drinks. 7. Limit consumption of salt. Avoid moldy cereals (grains) or pulses (legumes). 8. Aim to meet nutritional needs through diet alone. [That is, without dietary supplements.]

Almost nothing is known of the time between the late Glacial Age circa 15,000 BC and the beginnings of Mehrgarh at circa 7000 BC ... The first period at Mehrgarh has fully-developed domestic architecture based on mud brick ... So while Mehrgarh ... is undoubtedly an early village farming community, there is also a sense that the excavations there have not documented the beginnings of this tradition or the beginnings of food production and domestication in the region. It is certainly nothing like a terminal hunting-gathering site with the intensive collection of cereals, pulses and sophisticated hunting. These people were already farmers.

THE INDIVIDUAL CONTROLS HIS HEART AND PULSE BY REDUCING IT SIGNIFICANTLY. THE FINAL STAGE IS RENOUNCING CONSUMPTION OF FOOD AND WATER.

Here now, what’s this?” he said. “Ye’ll not come to any harm. Ye may despise me, Lady Nerissa, but I’d give me life before I let anythin’ happen to ye.” She wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she walked to the rail and leaned against it, looking out over the sea toward the frigate that was surely coming for her. Quietly, she said, “It’s not my own safety that concerns me.” He joined her, standing close enough that they could converse without their words being overheard. Softly, he asked, “Whose, then?” She just looked pointedly at him, then looked away again, her mouth a tight line. “Ah,” he said, and because her hand was only inches from his own, he reached out and covered it with his own. She did not pull away. Instead, her fingers—slender, soft and colored like the inside of a seashell—wound gently around his. She kept them that way for a long moment, gripping his hand with surprising strength and leaving him to wonder if hers would be the last female touch he ever encountered. One never knew, really, going into battle. “I don’t despise you,” she said. “Despite the fact you abducted me, starved me with the worst food I’ve ever been exposed to, and provided me with no change of clothing, you have been nothing but a gentleman toward me and I would hate to see anything happen to you.” He cocked his head and looked down at her. “What’s this? Have ye come to care about me, lass?” “Certainly not.” She let go of his hand as though his skin had burned her. The moment lay between them, still pulsing with life and bare, raw honesty. His gaze was drawn once more to her hand. A hand whose fingers had just entwined with his in fondness, in friendship, or maybe just in worry. He thought of where he’d like that hand to be. “Ah. Just wonderin’, then.” “Stop wondering, then. I don’t care about you. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” “I could get blown to bits today, y’know. Won’t be anythin’ left of me for yer brothers to kill. Just think of it, Lady Nerissa! I could die this mornin’, perhaps in your arms… and ye’ll always lament the fact you didn’t tell me you cared about me.” “Would you stop it?” “’ Twould be a lot to lay on yer conscience, now, wouldn’t it?” “Stop!

MEAT SAUCE Serves 4 to 6 1 bunch kale, stems removed and leaves torn Leaves from 1 bunch fresh cilantro 1 onion, chopped 3 beets, scrubbed and chopped 4 carrots, chopped 4 celery sticks, chopped 2 tablespoons grass-fed ghee 1 pound organic grass-fed ground bison or beef One 24-ounce glass bottle organic crushed tomatoes 1 tablespoon ground turmeric Unprocessed sea salt and freshly ground black pepper Combine the kale, cilantro, onion, beets, carrots, and celery in a food processor and pulse until finely chopped but not pureed. Melt the ghee in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the vegetables and sauté until the onion is translucent, about 3 minutes. Add the bison and cook, stirring and breaking it apart with the spoon, until browned, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the crushed tomatoes and turmeric and season with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes to allow flavors to combine. Serve over squash, quinoa, or broccoli.

We could barely even recognise each other, let alone differentiate. With our hair slicked down with awful, a faces glistening with translucent slime, our clothes rotted and tattered, and revealing bodies in equal and complementary states of decay, we appeared to each other simply as shining, semi-fluid forms in the darkness. We reached for anything we could consume - food, old and new, detritus from the floor, are own squelching shit - and washed it down with all the booze we could manage [...] If we kept on, I knew, our skin itself would leave us, rotting from our bones and pooling at her ankles, until there was nothing at all to tell one of us from the other, or any of us from anyone else. Even in the haze, I understood what I had achieved. I’d stripped everything back, rendered myself down to nothing but the shit I contained. I had transcended even wildness and animality, become bacterial, amoebic, viral. I was infinite and self-dividing, no longer near to death, but death itself, airborne and particulate. The skin of the world had been peeled away, and what was beneath, I knew was the true face of God: pulsing and writhing and ugly with life. (p.300)

The Right Intake Protein, protein, protein. Is there any other food group that causes so much angst? Have too little and you may be in trouble, have too much and you may be in greater trouble. Proteins are the main building blocks of the body making muscles, organs, skin and also enzymes. Thus, a lack of protein in your diet affects not only your health (think muscle deficiency and immune deficiency) but also your looks (poor skin and hair). On the other hand, excess protein can be harmful. “High protein intake can lead to dehydration and also increase the risk of gout, kidney afflictions, osteoporosis as well as some forms of cancer,” says Taranjeet Kaur, metabolic balance coach and senior nutritionist at AktivOrtho. However, there are others who disagree with her. "In normal people a high-protein natural diet is not harmful. In people who are taking artificial protien supplements , the level of harm depends upon the kind of protein and other elements in the supplement (for example, caffiene, etc.) For people with a pre- existing, intestinal, kidney or liver disease, a high-protein diet can be harmful," says leading nutritionist Shikha Sharma, managing director of Nutri-Health.  However, since too much of anything can never be good, the trick is to have just the right amount of protein in your diet.  But how much is the right amount? As a ballpark figure, the US Institute of Medicine recommends 0.8 gm of protein per kilogram of body weight. This amounts to 56 gm per day for a 70 kg man and 48 gm per day for a 60 kg woman.  However, the ‘right’ amount of protein for you will depend upon many factors including your activity levels, age, muscle mass, physical goals and the current state of health. A teenager, for example, needs more protein than a middle-aged sedentary man. Similarly, if you work out five times a day for an hour or so, your protein requirement will go up to 1.2-1.5 gm per kg of body weight. So if you are a 70kg man who works out actively, you will need nearly 105 gm of protein daily.   Proteins are crucial, even when you are trying to lose weight. As you know, in order to lose weight you need to consume fewer calories than what you burn. Proteins do that in two ways. First, they curb your hunger and make you feel full. In fact, proteins have a greater and prolonged satiating effect as compared to carbohydrates and fats. “If you have proteins in each of your meals, you have lesser cravings for snacks and other such food items,” says Kaur. By dulling your hunger, proteins can help prevent obesity, diabetes and heart disease.   Second, eating proteins boosts your metabolism by up to 80-100 calories per day, helping you lose weight. In a study conducted in the US, women who increased protein intake to 30 per cent of calories, ended up eating 441 fewer calories per day, leading to weight loss. Kaur recommends having one type of protein per meal and three different types of proteins each day to comply with the varied amino acid requirements of the body. She suggests that proteins should be well distributed at each meal instead of concentrating on a high protein diet only at dinner or lunch. “Moreover, having one protein at a time helps the body absorb it better and it helps us decide which protein suits our system and how much of it is required by us individually. For example, milk may not be good for everyone; it may help one person but can produce digestive problems in the other,” explains Kaur. So what all should you eat to get your daily dose of protein? Generally speaking, animal protein provides all the essential amino acids in the right ratio for us to make full use of them. For instance, 100 gm of chicken has 30 gm of protein while 75gm of cottage cheese (paneer) has only 8 gm of proteins (see chart). But that doesn’t mean you need to convert to a non-vegetarian in order to eat more proteins, clarifies Sharma. There are plenty of vegetarian options such as soya, tofu, sprouts, pulses, cu

How could ghosts be hungry? But it made perfect sense to me now: The longing for the food you could no longer eat. The memory of having a body. People were constantly giving ghosts food, offerings of persimmons and oranges, pan de muerto on the Day of the Dead; even Halloween was about nothing so much as candy. What the dead wanted, above all else, was to eat, to cram their mouths full, to feel the calories flood their bloodstream, to be part of it again: life. Bloody, squirming, pulsing, hungry life.

Falafel Kebabs This recipe easily transforms into patties for making pita sandwiches. Cook them in the fry basket until golden brown, about 5 minutes per side. Serve the falafel with tzatziki sauce. MAKES ABOUT 12 FALAFEL Ingredients: 1 can (15 ounces) chickpeas, drained and rinsed 1 handful flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped ¼ small red onion, chopped ½ teaspoon garlic powder Pantry items: Kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper Olive oil 4 skewers (see Note) Multi-purpose skewer rack Directions: Preheat the fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a food processor, pulse together the chickpeas, parsley, onion, garlic powder, a large pinch of salt, and a pinch of pepper. With the motor running, add olive oil, 1 tablespoon at a time (up to 4 tablespoons), until the mixture becomes the consistency of crunchy peanut butter. Spoon out about 2 tablespoons of the mixture and roll into a ball (wet your hands, if necessary, to prevent sticking). Set on a plate, and repeat until all the mixture has all been used. Thread 3 falafel on each skewer. Set the skewers on the rack (put 3 on the rack and 1 directly on the fry basket beneath, if your rack has space for only 3 skewers). Cook for 10 minutes. Rotate the skewers and cook until the falafel begin to brown, 5 minutes more.

Twenty-three seconds. In this fleeting stretch of time, you can sprint down a New York City block, weave through the moving mass of people, and feel the concrete pulse beneath your feet. If you’re standing still, you can down a few shots of tequila with a coworker at a local bar and feel the world spin a little faster. Maybe, if you’re bored, you can scroll through the meaningless social media posts of people you never really liked, wondering if anyone else feels as alone as you do. You can text a meme to your friend and make him laugh about some stupid inside joke. You can read the first line of Dune. You can buy a bagel and a schmear from a food truck with no line. Or, you can call that shitty Chinese restaurant on West 17th Street to order an egg roll at midnight. In twenty-three seconds, you can also dodge an approaching subway car. But my dad didn’t.

Twenty-three seconds. In this fleeting stretch of time, you can sprint down a New York City block, weave through the moving mass of people, and feel the concrete pulse beneath your feet. If you’re standing still, you can down a few shots of tequila with a coworker at a local bar and feel the world spin a little faster. Maybe, if you’re bored, you can scroll through the meaningless social media posts of people you never really liked, wondering if anyone else feels as alone as you do. You can text a meme to your friend and make him laugh about some stupid inside joke. You can read the first line of Dune. You can buy a bagel and a schmear from a food truck with no line. Or, you can call that shitty Chinese restaurant on West 17th Street to order an egg roll at midnight.

You're staring at my boobs." Her tone is wry but somehow not insulted. "I am aware." I should be sorry, but I'm not. "I'm staring at your peachy butt, too, if we're being totally honest here." "Macon." I glance up at her. "Your body is fucking luscious, Delilah. Bitable in the best way possible. A juicy peach, a sweet apple covered in caramel. Do you know how much I'd kill for a caramel apple right now, Tot? And me stuck on this hell diet. It's a torment, I say." "I don't think this is very professional," she says weakly. "I should hope not." God, I love teasing her. Her whole body lights up when I do it. Foreplay. Does she realize that's what we're doing? "I was just thinking---" "What did I say about you thinking?" she warns. "They don't look like bananas now, Tot." "Oh my God, you're terrible." But she's grinning now. Fighting damn hard not to show it, but definitely grinning. "More like peaches. Ripe, juicy peaches." She sways in my direction before catching herself doing it and shifting her weight. "You called my butt peachy." A dry complaint. "My boobs can't be peaches too." Maybe I have a thing for peaches." Somehow, we're only a foot apart, the space between us humming with something. It licks over my tender skin, tickles the back of my neck. Take it slow, Saint. She's skittish. Back off. My body resents this greatly and strains toward her warmth. Her voice is a thread, drawn tight. "You're still staring." "Paying proper respect," I amend quietly. "You don't ignore a body like yours. It would be rude." "Pretty sure you have that backward." She's breathless now, her glorious breasts rising and falling with agitation. I lean down, take in the warmth of her scent. "Come on, Tot. I've grown up, seen the error of my ways. Give me your bountiful banana pie." Again she sways into my space, laughing softly. "Pervert. You're not getting any pie from me." I hum, heat and need making my head swim. "But I have this craving." She's whispering now. "Disappointment can be character building." "I'll need my strength for that. How about peach pie?" Kiss me, Delilah. Or let me kiss you. I'm not picky. The pulse at the base of her tanned neck visibly beats. The scent of her skin is like honey. "I thought you wanted banana cream," she says, a dazed look in her eyes. The tips of my fingers touch the collar of her shirt. "I don't think pie is what I want anymore.