KC – Domestic Living
Oct. 28th, 2005 03:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archivePlease to be bringing back Kitchen Confidential now, okay? KTHXBYE.
Kitchen Confidential
Dedicated to those who make all my insanity possible.
Inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyra_sena and nifra_idril
Domestic Living
On Jack
Once upon a time, in the Lower East Side there lived a fabulously brilliant and talented chef named Jack Bourdain. Now, not only was Jack all these excessive adjectives, but he was also really smart. Like most smart people, though, Jack had a problem –- he liked to drink. Jack also liked to stick things up his nose. And he liked blue pills. And red pills. And having a lot of sex. Jack probably could've started his own Overachievers Anonymous -- so, it didn't help that Jack also had a problem with keeping his drinking and drugging and floozy fucking out of the kitchen of the very nice restaurant where he worked.
Jack's evil stepmother, err, boss ended Jack's fairytale by firing Jack for, allegedly, having sex in the walk-in in a mess of foie gras and really expensive Beluga caviar. Jack's lawyer has told him not to talk about it. However, Jack's lawyer has also fleeced Jack good and proper, so Jack is broke, and now, he has no choice but to move in with his boyfriend, err, best friend, Steven.
Right.
On Sleeping Arrangements, Take 1
Steven is a man's man. He's the kind of friend who has nothing but beer and takeout in the refrigerator, unless he's raided the latest shipment where he works. Steven likes to scratch and belch and watch sports on his television. Steven also only has five pieces of furniture, and three of them are in his living room/kitchen. All of this goes towards understanding why Steven has one of the most worn sofas in all of Manhattan, which Jack doesn't mind -- much.
The glory of doing too much coke, Jack has found, is that it's destroyed most of the little cilia in his nose so he can sniff things much more clearly than the Average Jack. Jack can't believe that Nancy Regan said drugs were a bad thing -- obviously, she never did any. Obviously, also, Nancy Regan never spent the night on her best friend's sofa. Or maybe she did, because Steven's sofa smells like stale beer, pretzels, sweaty people, and other things that Jack wishes his nose was too messed up for him to recognize.
On Personal Hygiene
Jack is a vain man. He knows he's a vain man, because his roots are showing, and if he's the kind of guy who dyes his hair and then worries about his roots, this makes him vain –- or it would if Jack could remember having dyed his hair in the first place. This is obviously why the drugs are a bad idea. Well, that and the bloodshot eyes, and the oversensitive nose, and the rumbling in his stomach that might be dysentery. Or hey, maybe he's just hungry.
On Cooking
Jack was the head chef at his last restaurant, which shall remain nameless for these proceedings and to avoid incurring any other lawsuits that Jack can't afford at this moment anyway. Right. So, Jack is a head chef, and Steven is a soux chef. This means that Jack is the man in charge, and Steven is his second-in-command. This, apparently, does not apply in Steven's apartment. At least that's what Jack assumes Steven means by holding him a knife point -– err, at butter point in the kitchen.
"If you touch my butter again," Steven says, pressing a stick of non-salted butter against Jack's throat in what could be construed as a threatening way -- if butter can be threatening. "I will stab you with a fork."
Jack doesn't stop what he's doing; burned crepes taste hideous. "If I don't touch your butter then I can't cook breakfast."
And then the threatening stick is gone. "Well, if you're going to use bribery, that's all right then."
Jack deftly flips his crepe over and reaches for the strawberries without looking. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
On the Remote Control
Jack hasn't had the patience for television in a really long time; he can't sit still long enough for a sitcom, forget about a drama or a movie. Today though, he's discovered The Discovery Channel, and it's the most fascinating thing ever. He mentions this to Steven while Steven's running around his apartment trying to get ready for work.
Jack doesn't have a job anymore, so he doesn't have to do things like get ready, or shower, or even change his clothing. "Did you know that they grow square watermelons in Japan?" he tells Steven as Steven's trying to pull his jeans on over his shoes.
"You don't even like watermelon," Steven points out, sitting on the floor of the kitchen to remove his shoes. His left sock has a hole in it.
Jack rolls his eyes. "That's not the point."
"Yeah, because you ever have a point," Steven snorts.
"Says the man who hasn't had a complete thought since 2001."
Steven's sock doesn't have a lot of trajectory considering it's made of cotton. "I've had complete thoughts, you arse, you've just been too high to notice."
Jack lights a cigarette from the open box on the coffee table. "Touché."
On Motivation
Jack is still watching The Discovery Channel two days later. He had no idea that polar bear livers were poisonous; he contemplates sending some to his last boss and then dismisses the idea on account of his being ass-to-the-wall poor. Jack doesn't think he's moved from Steven's sofa in the last thirty-eight hours, but Steven hasn't bitched about being hungry, so Jack assumes he's cooked for him at least once or twice. Surely Jack's done something at some point because the ashtray is overflowing with butts, and there's a yellowing copy of the Post on the coffee table. It would at least help if Jack knew what day it is, even the time would be good. He could just turn on one of the cable news channels, but that's always depressing, and who needs to be more depressed when they've already been sober for two days?
What Jack really needs are more cigarettes. If Steven weren't out earning his paycheck, and paying for them to have a roof over their heads, Jack would make him go get some. Jack's a lazy fucker.
On Sleeping Arrangements, Take 2
Jack has been sleeping on Steven's sofa for four days, so he knows that the tissue under the cushion wasn't there last night, because he would've felt it before. Jack also knows that he didn't put the Kleenex there; knowing Steven there are only two things that could be on this tissue. Either one is way too gross for Jack to contemplate right now –- his energies are better spent watching the special on snakes in the Amazon in case they go to Rio for Carnival.
On Doing the Laundry, or Hygiene, Take 2
Jack used to spend a lot of money on his clothing. A lot of money. He was very big on $300 shoes and $500 jeans and leather. Jack has always liked his leather -- especially lambskin leather, because Jack is a carnivore, which means that Jack likes meat. He likes the things that come from meat too, like steak, and hamburger, and that excellent rabbit pate that's just melts across his tongue. Anyway, Jack is a meat-man, and a leather man, a manly man, who likes manly things and isn't so much with the other things, like washing. Yeah, Jack's not so big on the washing, or the moving from the sofa.
It's only when Steven's picking him up in a fireman's carry and dropping him in the bathtub with a bar of soap that Jack thinks maybe he should wash. "It's time to rejoin the human race, my son," Steven says.
Jack just sputters. "You're making me miss the special on Discovery Health about the one-hundred pound tumor!"
So much for the vanity.
On the Fanboy Thing
Steven is a fanboy -– the kind of fanboy who is so enthusiastic about his particular geeky things that he can't be embarrassed about them anymore. Steven is the kind of fanboy who tells Jack that the Klingon gestational period is 111 days. Jack doesn't want to know what it says about him that he can immediately translate Steven's geek-speak into normal language. So, instead, he unwraps the warm tortilla chips and melted brie he stole --- err, liberated from his former employer and waits for the film to begin. He slaps Steven's hands away the first three times and then surrenders the cheese; it's not like Jack didn't come prepared -- he's got two slabs of Swiss chocolate and a bottle of Cabernet in his bag.
Only a man with a death wish would eat the crap they sell at movie theatres.
On Sleeping Arrangements, Take 3
Steven doesn't have proper bed linens, and Jack has been sleeping underneath three towels and a winter coat for the last eight nights. Eventually a man gets really tired of slumming it this badly, and Jack doesn't even bother to head for the sofa when they get back from Attack of the Fanboy, the extended nine hour version with gay elves and scary hobbits. He strips off Steven's rugby shirt and Steven's jeans -- pretty much everything he's wearing belongs to Steven.
There's a great big monogram on Steven's duvet from the Four Seasons, and Jack doesn't even want to know how Steven managed to smuggle it out of the hotel. When Steven comes in from picking up his mail, he makes a snorting noise before dropping onto the bed beside Jack. "If you kick me, I'm kicking you out."
Jack flings an arm out and smacks Steven in the side of the head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
On Steven
When Steven tells Jack he has to go into rehab, Jack doesn't fight it -- much. If Steven were anybody else, Jack would say no. If Steven were Suze, Jack would just sweet talk her –- him -– into bed until the subject was forgotten, but Steven is immune to Jack's flirtatious manner and dashing wit. Steven's seen Jack passed out in his own vomit, and still welcomes Jack to his home. Jack doesn't want to fuck that over completely, so he agrees. With one caveat: "We have to go out and get completely fucked up first."
Steven just laughs. "You could get fucked here, so I take it you mean you want to go out and score some Class A drugs first."
Jack smirks. "Yeah, that too."
-end-
A lot of the really random stuff here I gathered from your poll answers, so you know, thanks for that!
kabukivice -- My sock has a hole in it.
evalinece -- they grow square watermelons in japan
stellabymoor -- polar bear liver will kill you if eaten
barely_bean -- a klingon's gestation period is 111 days.
For Lyra and her Discovery Channel addiction.
Kitchen Confidential
Dedicated to those who make all my insanity possible.
Inspired by
lyra_sena and nifra_idril On Jack
Once upon a time, in the Lower East Side there lived a fabulously brilliant and talented chef named Jack Bourdain. Now, not only was Jack all these excessive adjectives, but he was also really smart. Like most smart people, though, Jack had a problem –- he liked to drink. Jack also liked to stick things up his nose. And he liked blue pills. And red pills. And having a lot of sex. Jack probably could've started his own Overachievers Anonymous -- so, it didn't help that Jack also had a problem with keeping his drinking and drugging and floozy fucking out of the kitchen of the very nice restaurant where he worked.
Jack's evil stepmother, err, boss ended Jack's fairytale by firing Jack for, allegedly, having sex in the walk-in in a mess of foie gras and really expensive Beluga caviar. Jack's lawyer has told him not to talk about it. However, Jack's lawyer has also fleeced Jack good and proper, so Jack is broke, and now, he has no choice but to move in with his boyfriend, err, best friend, Steven.
Right.
On Sleeping Arrangements, Take 1
Steven is a man's man. He's the kind of friend who has nothing but beer and takeout in the refrigerator, unless he's raided the latest shipment where he works. Steven likes to scratch and belch and watch sports on his television. Steven also only has five pieces of furniture, and three of them are in his living room/kitchen. All of this goes towards understanding why Steven has one of the most worn sofas in all of Manhattan, which Jack doesn't mind -- much.
The glory of doing too much coke, Jack has found, is that it's destroyed most of the little cilia in his nose so he can sniff things much more clearly than the Average Jack. Jack can't believe that Nancy Regan said drugs were a bad thing -- obviously, she never did any. Obviously, also, Nancy Regan never spent the night on her best friend's sofa. Or maybe she did, because Steven's sofa smells like stale beer, pretzels, sweaty people, and other things that Jack wishes his nose was too messed up for him to recognize.
On Personal Hygiene
Jack is a vain man. He knows he's a vain man, because his roots are showing, and if he's the kind of guy who dyes his hair and then worries about his roots, this makes him vain –- or it would if Jack could remember having dyed his hair in the first place. This is obviously why the drugs are a bad idea. Well, that and the bloodshot eyes, and the oversensitive nose, and the rumbling in his stomach that might be dysentery. Or hey, maybe he's just hungry.
On Cooking
Jack was the head chef at his last restaurant, which shall remain nameless for these proceedings and to avoid incurring any other lawsuits that Jack can't afford at this moment anyway. Right. So, Jack is a head chef, and Steven is a soux chef. This means that Jack is the man in charge, and Steven is his second-in-command. This, apparently, does not apply in Steven's apartment. At least that's what Jack assumes Steven means by holding him a knife point -– err, at butter point in the kitchen.
"If you touch my butter again," Steven says, pressing a stick of non-salted butter against Jack's throat in what could be construed as a threatening way -- if butter can be threatening. "I will stab you with a fork."
Jack doesn't stop what he's doing; burned crepes taste hideous. "If I don't touch your butter then I can't cook breakfast."
And then the threatening stick is gone. "Well, if you're going to use bribery, that's all right then."
Jack deftly flips his crepe over and reaches for the strawberries without looking. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
On the Remote Control
Jack hasn't had the patience for television in a really long time; he can't sit still long enough for a sitcom, forget about a drama or a movie. Today though, he's discovered The Discovery Channel, and it's the most fascinating thing ever. He mentions this to Steven while Steven's running around his apartment trying to get ready for work.
Jack doesn't have a job anymore, so he doesn't have to do things like get ready, or shower, or even change his clothing. "Did you know that they grow square watermelons in Japan?" he tells Steven as Steven's trying to pull his jeans on over his shoes.
"You don't even like watermelon," Steven points out, sitting on the floor of the kitchen to remove his shoes. His left sock has a hole in it.
Jack rolls his eyes. "That's not the point."
"Yeah, because you ever have a point," Steven snorts.
"Says the man who hasn't had a complete thought since 2001."
Steven's sock doesn't have a lot of trajectory considering it's made of cotton. "I've had complete thoughts, you arse, you've just been too high to notice."
Jack lights a cigarette from the open box on the coffee table. "Touché."
On Motivation
Jack is still watching The Discovery Channel two days later. He had no idea that polar bear livers were poisonous; he contemplates sending some to his last boss and then dismisses the idea on account of his being ass-to-the-wall poor. Jack doesn't think he's moved from Steven's sofa in the last thirty-eight hours, but Steven hasn't bitched about being hungry, so Jack assumes he's cooked for him at least once or twice. Surely Jack's done something at some point because the ashtray is overflowing with butts, and there's a yellowing copy of the Post on the coffee table. It would at least help if Jack knew what day it is, even the time would be good. He could just turn on one of the cable news channels, but that's always depressing, and who needs to be more depressed when they've already been sober for two days?
What Jack really needs are more cigarettes. If Steven weren't out earning his paycheck, and paying for them to have a roof over their heads, Jack would make him go get some. Jack's a lazy fucker.
On Sleeping Arrangements, Take 2
Jack has been sleeping on Steven's sofa for four days, so he knows that the tissue under the cushion wasn't there last night, because he would've felt it before. Jack also knows that he didn't put the Kleenex there; knowing Steven there are only two things that could be on this tissue. Either one is way too gross for Jack to contemplate right now –- his energies are better spent watching the special on snakes in the Amazon in case they go to Rio for Carnival.
On Doing the Laundry, or Hygiene, Take 2
Jack used to spend a lot of money on his clothing. A lot of money. He was very big on $300 shoes and $500 jeans and leather. Jack has always liked his leather -- especially lambskin leather, because Jack is a carnivore, which means that Jack likes meat. He likes the things that come from meat too, like steak, and hamburger, and that excellent rabbit pate that's just melts across his tongue. Anyway, Jack is a meat-man, and a leather man, a manly man, who likes manly things and isn't so much with the other things, like washing. Yeah, Jack's not so big on the washing, or the moving from the sofa.
It's only when Steven's picking him up in a fireman's carry and dropping him in the bathtub with a bar of soap that Jack thinks maybe he should wash. "It's time to rejoin the human race, my son," Steven says.
Jack just sputters. "You're making me miss the special on Discovery Health about the one-hundred pound tumor!"
So much for the vanity.
On the Fanboy Thing
Steven is a fanboy -– the kind of fanboy who is so enthusiastic about his particular geeky things that he can't be embarrassed about them anymore. Steven is the kind of fanboy who tells Jack that the Klingon gestational period is 111 days. Jack doesn't want to know what it says about him that he can immediately translate Steven's geek-speak into normal language. So, instead, he unwraps the warm tortilla chips and melted brie he stole --- err, liberated from his former employer and waits for the film to begin. He slaps Steven's hands away the first three times and then surrenders the cheese; it's not like Jack didn't come prepared -- he's got two slabs of Swiss chocolate and a bottle of Cabernet in his bag.
Only a man with a death wish would eat the crap they sell at movie theatres.
On Sleeping Arrangements, Take 3
Steven doesn't have proper bed linens, and Jack has been sleeping underneath three towels and a winter coat for the last eight nights. Eventually a man gets really tired of slumming it this badly, and Jack doesn't even bother to head for the sofa when they get back from Attack of the Fanboy, the extended nine hour version with gay elves and scary hobbits. He strips off Steven's rugby shirt and Steven's jeans -- pretty much everything he's wearing belongs to Steven.
There's a great big monogram on Steven's duvet from the Four Seasons, and Jack doesn't even want to know how Steven managed to smuggle it out of the hotel. When Steven comes in from picking up his mail, he makes a snorting noise before dropping onto the bed beside Jack. "If you kick me, I'm kicking you out."
Jack flings an arm out and smacks Steven in the side of the head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
On Steven
When Steven tells Jack he has to go into rehab, Jack doesn't fight it -- much. If Steven were anybody else, Jack would say no. If Steven were Suze, Jack would just sweet talk her –- him -– into bed until the subject was forgotten, but Steven is immune to Jack's flirtatious manner and dashing wit. Steven's seen Jack passed out in his own vomit, and still welcomes Jack to his home. Jack doesn't want to fuck that over completely, so he agrees. With one caveat: "We have to go out and get completely fucked up first."
Steven just laughs. "You could get fucked here, so I take it you mean you want to go out and score some Class A drugs first."
Jack smirks. "Yeah, that too."
-end-
A lot of the really random stuff here I gathered from your poll answers, so you know, thanks for that!
kabukivice -- My sock has a hole in it.evalinece -- they grow square watermelons in japanstellabymoor -- polar bear liver will kill you if eatenbarely_bean -- a klingon's gestation period is 111 days.For Lyra and her Discovery Channel addiction.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 10:32 pm (UTC)and hey, I mailed off your DVDs this morning priority. We'll see how long it takes to get there!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 10:52 pm (UTC)The whole part with them in the movie theatre reminds me of going on the airplane with my parents. They ran restaurants and we'd never go on a plane without some baguettes, brie, proscuitto, mortadella, fruits, nuts, and dark chocolate. Overseas flights tended to be entertaining in my family. I never actually ate meals on planes until I was travelling alone in my teens and forgot to bring my own food. The two of then would be rolling over in their graves with the current security measures on planes. It would mean they couldn't bring their own pocketknives and cut the bread fruits, and cheeses.
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:29 am (UTC)That's the best story ever, and what really rocks is that it's true! KC is fabulous, and there's an episode you can watch on myspace.com (http://myspace.com/kitchenconfidential).
no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 11:12 pm (UTC)And people worry about not getting enough vitamins! Hah.
Much, much love for the foodand drink. Cabernet in a cinema? Genius.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 11:38 pm (UTC)...you also know which sock of mine had the hole in it. you scare me.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 11:45 pm (UTC)LIke this:
Only a man with a death wish would eat the crap they sell at movie theatres.
it's just perfect. *loves*
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 11:51 pm (UTC)Oh God--
*continues to pee laughing*
Thanks so much for trucking it through the annoying hiatus. I can't wait until the show comes back (for, er, however long it will last), but your stories are lovely and lively and brill, and as verdant and sharp as the lemon zest I bet Jack loves to pieces and scrapes over Basil. *smooches*
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 02:05 am (UTC)Not only do I love this show for the show, but I love it for the awesome writers in its fandom and the fantastic fic. Mad props to you for writing us another helping. Go you!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:53 am (UTC)*looks and squees happily*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 03:33 am (UTC)Very interesting... But the story is wicked cool.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 03:53 am (UTC)This was fun sweetheart!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 08:53 am (UTC)i've been really loving the show, so it's nice to see it expanding, fandomly. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-29 10:10 pm (UTC)This was lovely: really true to Jack and Steven's interactions on the show.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-01 07:42 pm (UTC)Keep the legend growing.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 12:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-01 01:48 am (UTC)AND NOW YOU'RE IN THIS FANDOM. OR YOU WERE. WHATEVER. WHAT THE FUCK. This is ridiculous.