Magic, destiny, fates and all that other oh so special stuff that makes us all root for ‘the one’. Add in some Jason and watch this all unfold…
Day 17: THe One
“Where’s your blender?”
“Blender? What makes you think I have a girly thing like a blender,” the dimwit responded. Why was I here again, oh yes, Sookie. The only reason I hadn’t snapped off this blood bag’s head yet.
And why I’m in Jason Stackhouse’s kitchen attempting to cook.
“Beehlender,” he giggled, forcing me to curse Pam for calling dibs on Ginger once more, never thought I’d see the day I’d regret not choosing Ginger. “He shoulda market that you know, the Beehlender. There’s George Foreman money in that.”
“Right,” I cleared my throat, per usual having no idea, nor wanting to for that matter, to know where his frazzled brain had flown off to now. I glanced at the recipe again, I could of course not. Sookie never asked me to cook anything for her pride that is that dessert table. Which is why I was insistent on making a contribution, she’d appreciate the gesture. That’s all that mattered at this time of year supposedly, or so Sookie repeatedly told me while driving herself crazy with all these preparations for a few mere gestures. So I was determined not to be outdone by our other vampire guests.
Even if it tasted like shit.
Which it probably would.
It definitely would by the looks of my cooking partner.
“Can you even cook?” I posed sceptically.
“I’ll have you know I nuke a mean pizza!” he retorted back indignantly. Yep, definitely related to one Sookie Stackhouse. I nodded, giving him the barest sign of respect, I knew the microwave was a temperamental beast that under the wrong hands would turn the already disgusting TruBlood into something that I shudder to even think about. The man clearly had skills.
“How do you propose I crush these oats without a blender? The recipe says-”
“You’re a vamp man!” Jason cried out, grabbing hold of the packet of oats in his fist, banging it on the counter. “You just go GRRRR!” With that the oats flew through the kitchen in disarray. Admittedly many had fallen to smaller pieces but none had managed to land in the bowl. Not even Sookie would appreciate the dirt on her brother’s floor as part of the dessert, even if it was just a gesture. Fuck.
“Whoopsie,” he shrugged, “Got any more?”
Thankfully I did, sitting through my Maker’s countless attempts at professional patisserie, the one thing I learnt was that one required many back ups. And that supermarkets around Christmas time were more something akin to Dante’s Nine Circles of Hell than the love and joy the humans make this holiday out to be.
“Got an idea, be right back.”
I watched him with puzzled amusement, I knew Jason Stackhouse considered himself to be a kinky man, not hardly, but I did wonder what he kept in that bedroom, or love grove as he preferred to call it, that would possibly be used in place of a Beehlender. Fuck, now he has me saying it. Although in the right size and with a silver set of blades…
“Oats gonna get it!” Jason whooped, returning armed with a baseball bat which I could only raise my brows at. “Don’t like guns in the house,” he gave in explanation.
Good, I didn’t either, especially if that house contained Jason Stackhouse.
“Do you wish to scare the oats into crumbling?” I posed in all seriousness. One could never know with Jason after all.
“Think that would work?”
Fuck he was serious. Worse he looked like a wounded animal now.
“Oats don’t have feelings, Jason.”
“Thank Jeesus!” he sighed in relief. “Had me worried there for a bit, Bud. Just thinking about all those oatmeal cookies I ate. Here hold open this baggy.”
Despite my reserve I held open the plastic bag in which he deposited the new batch of oats. He zipped it closed before laying it on the counter, I was about to interrupt and demand how this was to replace a blender until he started attacking the oats with his baseball bat and in mere minutes , with a little vampire strength, turning them into the required fine crumbles for the recipes. Needless to say, I was impressed.
“What are we making anyway?”
“Choco- what now?”
“Chocolate Balls,” I translated, forgetting I had slipped into Swedish.
“Hey Eric,” Jason grinned, with that especially weird grin. ‘Shit eating’ Sookie called it for reasons I never quite could understand. The only one I could ever imagine being into that would be Beehl the Eternally Constipated Vampire. He liked to inflict torture on himself after all. “Does your recipe call for salt, do they happen to be Chocolate Salty Balls?”
I glanced back down at the recipe and sure enough it contained a small amount of salt so I answered in the affirmative. This for whatever reason prompted him to jump up and into his living room, cranking up his clearly inferior sound system barely containing his sniggers. As soon as the words to the song started he sang along, off key, of course, “Ooooooh yeah, suck on my chocolate salty -”
Fuck he looked like a wounded puppy. And he had those big sulking eyes Sookie would incidentally turn on me and find me unable to refuse her a thing. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
“I’ll buy you a new sound system,” I offered while he still stared at the destruction with palpable grief. “An even better one. Top of the line.” That thankfully seemed to cheer the boy up and if he had a tail I’m sure it would have waggled as he made his way back to the kitchen, detailing exactly which sound system he’d like. It was of course inferior than what I would eventually buy him.
I handed him the pack of butter to soften, he was the microwave master after all. Impressively he had it programmed and brought it to perfect consistency within seconds, the chocolate soon followed which he melted in short bursts, proving his extensive experience with the machine even further while nattering on about an incident where he lacked chocolate syrup. If ever I needed a man to operate a microwave he would be my first choice, knowing loyalty was bred with compliments I told him as much.
“Eh thanks, Bubba,” he replied. The compliment not having as much impact as I’d hoped. Thankfully the sound system would sort it soon enough.
“My name’s not Bubba,” I replied with a frown while stirring the ingredients together, only to discover we had melted chocolate in vain, requiring cocoa instead. Why the fuck were they called chocolate balls, then? Thankfully Jason happily gobbled up the melted chocolate with no qualms and had the required ingredient in his cupboards. Hot cocoa was apparently and decidedly not, girly. “Not that it really is his name, but we don’t speak of that. For obvious reasons.”
“Right,” Jason replied masking his incomprehension. He was good at that, but I’d always notice regardless.
The recipe appeared to be almost complete, “It says to roll into balls and use gloves if necessary.”
“Got ya covered,” Jason perked up, returning back from his bedroom with a pack of latex gloves. “I like to play doctor.”
“You seem better suited as the nurse,” I noted wryly while fitting the snug gloves with a harsh snap around my hands, forcing a shudder of delight from the boy. Typical.
“Yeah,” he agreed dreamily, while easily demonstrating how to roll the chocolate and oats mixture into little balls, “but you need a really good doctor. That Pam would make a good doctor. Would she, ya know?” He asked while mimicking his tongue over the chocolate mixture in his hand. I regarded him with somewhat more curiosity than normal, “Ya know! Does she like to kiss the purses when she’s working the tackle.”
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” I reminded.
“Yeah, but we’re buds, two peas in a pod, two chockla-whatevers in a bowl of coconut, or somethin’. I’m your brother-in-law, if you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”
“By that logic- don’t eat them all!”
“Just the one,” he denied, while I resumed cleaning away the mess made.
“Just the one,” I conceded, Sookie hardly would notice one more or less. It was the gesture that mattered after all and would reward me ten fold. Or so I kept telling myself. Jason suckling on his one chocolate ball reminded me of where I last left off, “By that logic I’d have to inform you and any others that asks whether your sister indulges in such behaviour.”
“You clean your mouth out right now!” he replied incensed, though much of it was incomprehensible as his cheeks were puffed up like a hamster, clearly containing more than just the one. “My sis is virtuous and all things good. All you two do is cuddle!”
“So we’re just cuddle buddies in your mind?” I posed with great amusement. “Where do you think babies come from Jason?”
“Impossible destiny inducing magic?”
Fuck, he had me there.
“These are really good man,” he complimented, chocolate everywhere on him now. “Got any more?”
“What do you mean more?” I demanded narrowing in on the plate that previously contained the fruits of our labour.
In all fairness the dimwit had left just the one.
If even Jason and Eric can manage this recipe, why not try it yourself? Very easy and makes for a great homemade gift too ;). If preferred an alternative vegan version can be found here.
|100 g||(½ cup)||caster (superfine) sugar|
|100 g||(3½ oz)||unsalted butter (1 tbsp short of half a cup)|
|3 tbsp||strong coffee, hot|
|3 tbsp||cocoa powder|
|pinch of flaked sea salt|
|125 g||(1½ cups)||rolled oats|
|50 g||(1¾ oz)||desiccated coconut|
1. Mix together the butter, sugar and vanilla until fully combined.
2. In a small bowl combine the coffee and cocoa powder and mix to form a thick paste. Allow to cool slightly then pour into the butter mixture and mix together until fully combined. Add the salt and oats and mix together until fully combined.
3. Take a spoonful of the mixture and roll between your hands to form a small ball. Roll in the coconut and set aside and repeat with the remaining mixture. Refrigerate until firm. Best served slightly chilled although perfectly good at room temperature too.
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