made a roast chicken, roasted potatoes, and schmaltzy rainbow chard w dill n lemon 4 dinnerrrrr

Favorite Thanksgiving Episodes

Hey I love BB holiday episodes so here is another random list of my fav thanksgiving episodes! My top three change order every few hours. Some of my fav episodes of all time are thanksgiving episodes.

From bottom to top.

9: Now we're not cooking with gas

This episode is last on my list because it is just too stressful for me to watch. I watch BB's to unwind and i just want things to work out for the belcher's. Even though the turkey was good in the end. it's just too much for me to handle.

8: Gayle makin' bob sled

I also don't like this episode. I like Gayle for the most part but she was so frustrating this time. As with no. 9 on the list, this episode stresses me out which makes me not like it. I also hate when Mr. Business escapes that's my biggest fear with my cat. Also This episode is not super thanksgivingish ya know. I forgot it was a thanksgiving episode until I looked it up for this list.

7: Diarrhea of a poopy kid

I like this episode but there are some things that keep it toward the bottom of the list. For example I don't love the stories in this episode. I usually enjoy the three story format of BB episodes but these ones were just eh for me. I also don't like how recently the writers have been intensifying the dependent relationship between Gene and Linda. I feel like in earlier episodes, they've shown how close they are but i feel like recently it's been weirder. Idk if i'm explaining this right. I do like the whole premise of the episode and I liked all the cool food Bob cooks this time. It sounds really good. I also like Bob and Gene's dynamic in this episode.

6: I bob your pardon

I really don’t have any cons for this episode I thought it was cute, but I like the others on the list more. Actually this switches places with the no. 5 all the time, but for now I’ll leave it at no.6. I love the premise of this episode. It was very fun. Bob is so cute in the berry bog I love when he gets a win. I also like the return of the two-butted goat.

5: Thanks hoarding

As mentioned before, this episodes switches places on my list a lot, But as of now it's No.5. A few cons is just that Linda is a bit pushy in forcing teddy into something he is uncomfortable to do. It's not like a bad thing in terms of story structure but it is not that enjoyable to watch. I also didn't love the ending song. I love BB musical numbers, end credits, background music, but this wasn't my favorite. Things i do like! bob and his cooking and his enthusiasm for spatchcocking. I also love teddy in episodes and I’m glad he got to spend some time with the Belchers.

4: Indecent thanksgiving proposal

As the first thanksgiving episode it has a special place in my heart. I love Linda’s thanksgiving song, love the premise, the my neighbor totoro reference, Lance. Just an overall fun classic Bob’s episode.

3: Turkey in a can

The last three on my list are basically tied they are so close in rank they switch orders all the time. This is one of my all time favorite BB episodes. Bi Bob that's the main reason i love this. I love the Deli guy interactions! I think it's No.3 rn because i wish we got a full acknowledgement. It's def not subtext but this was in season 4 and we are on season 11. I just want them to say bisexual ya know. anyway i love Gene's song and Bob freaking out over tina growing up is very cute and touching.

2: Dawn of the Peck

Great Thanksgiving vibes. The Donna Summer song is amazing it fits so well and I love Bob's dancing. I love when regular size rudy is in episodes and i love how he is embraced by the Belcher's so cute. Also Bob's dramatic monologue when he sees turkey baster is the best. Just an overall amazing episode! Ok this has nothing to do with it's ranking but one of the reasons i always thought the Pesto's live above their restaurant is this episode. When they drop Andy and Ollie off they go back to the restaurant! I guess maybe Jimmy Pesto's is open but i feel like there are other instances where it seems that they live above their restaurant. oh also this ep has a great end credits scene. Love Donna Summers.

1: The Quirk-ducers

amazing musical number, great thanksgiving vibes, and grandpa potato. the song is so catchy i sing it all the time. I love Tina's erotic friend fiction and i think it's so funny how Louise reads it aloud to the family. I like how tina works through her insecurity with her writing. I also like when Tina has nice moments with J ju even though i prefer zeke. My absolute favorite part about this episode is the reprise of the songs put all together in higher quality at the end of the episode. It's just such a good song! “We’re going to dinner!”

Thanks for reading! If someone reads this let me know if you agree or disagree!

8, 18

8. game of the year: hmmm. the last of us pt 2 is sitting unplayed since That moment, and one day i will work up the strength to finish it but not today lol. i'm playing bioshock infinite for the first time this year and i'm Really enjoying it, so let's go with that.

18. a memorable meal this year: HM. this is an interesting question. i really loved that korean beef noodle thing i made this year, because it was cheap and fun and tasted good. i also had a lot of fun spatchcocking our roast chicken for christmas dinner this year, so probably that one.

Recipe for Disaster

Characters: Crazy!CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1261

A/N: Season 7 Crazy!Castiel adorably spoils dinner. Please accept this attempt at humor as a gesture of solidarity.

The lid on the boiling pot of water clattered noisily against the roiling pressure of steam rising past the rim. The delicious scents of citrus and rosemary wafted from the warmth of the oven, drifting out into the rest of the cabin and overpowering the smell of fresh paint used to mark the walls with various demonic and angelic warding symbols.

You busied yourself setting the rustic table with actual matching dishes and utensils for once instead of the haphazard grab-whatever-is-in-the-drawer-and-convenient-to-shovel-food-into-your-mouth model of food ingestion the boys were accustomed to practicing. You hopefully set out wine glasses, not actually expecting either brother to touch them, but willing to be surprised by the possibility. Arranging the spray of wildflowers Castiel popped off to gather a few moments ago in some faraway verdant meadow after you wished aloud for a spot of bright color to dress the otherwise drab table, you glanced up and smiled at the angel squatting in front of the oven and squinting intently through the tiny window on the front. He’d been through so much recently – death, resurrection, amnesia, and taking on Sam’s burden of torture courtesy of Lucifer – it was no wonder to you that his wits buckled under the pressure. He was still Cas though – adorable and sweet, but with a handful of interesting new hobbies, a curious obsession with insects, and an annoying aversion to conflict making him utterly useless to the Winchesters. The red Kiss the Cook apron donned over his white scrubs and trench coat had been his idea, and you took chaste advantage of the offer several times while instructing him in the preparation of dinner.

Sam and Dean blustered through the cabin door, slamming it shut, frame shaking as they entered.

Cas rose and frowned at the ruckus.

Sam inhaled deeply, eyes closing in sensory ecstasy as he breathed in the warm smell of the roasting chicken. Exhaling, he hummed approval, “Something smells amazing!”

Dean bounded across the cabin in three strides, slipped past Cas, and plucked the cover off the boiling pot to examine the contents much to the angel’s dismay. The elder Winchester snickered at the red apron, spinning and holding the lid above his head as Cas tried repeatedly to grab it. He flashed you a playful grin when you turned to witness the chaos, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

“Spatchcock chicken,” you answered, unamused, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“Say what now?” Dean asked, brow furrowed askance. He relinquished the lid.

“Spatchcock chicken,” Cas repeated, nodding politely in thanks as he accepted the cover and returned it to the pot.

“Yeesh, that sounds painful,” Sam winced and tensed his shoulders.

“I think a wendigo tried to do that to me once,” Dean snatched a raw green bean from the counter, bit it in half, grimaced, and chucked the offending vegetable across the cabin to hit his brother in the chest.

Sam wagged his chin in condemnation of the act.

You put your hands on your hips, inquiring disbelievingly, “A wendigo tried to butterfly, lay you flat, and roast you in an oven?”

“Whatever, Julia Childs,” Dean snorted, redirecting his attention to retrieving a cold beer from the fridge.

Sam stepped nearer, chuckling to himself as he pointed at the angel, “Guess that makes Cas Jacques Pepin, huh?”

Dean cracked the top off the hissing beer. Cas fretted over the boiling pot with a slotted spoon. Both of them turned in unison to ask, “Who?”

Sam raised an eyebrow as if he could not fathom their complete lack of knowledge on the matter, “Her cooking partner-nevermind.” His gaze moved expectantly to you for backup.

“How do you even know who that is, Sam?” you pondered. “I didn’t know you had any culinary interests.”

“He’s into just about anything that involves a lot of sweat,” Dean pointed the bottle of beer in his direction for emphasis before drinking a swig.

Sam shrugged and pressed his lips thin, “PBS. Babysitter to lonely children across the states stuck in motels with no cable whose father and brother left them behind to go on a hunting trip.”

Dean sheepishly shrank from his brother’s accusatory glare and struck Cas lightly on the arm with the back of his hand to redirect attention, “You learning anything useful Cas?”

“Yes, cooking is exceptionally violent,” the angel answered, bending to slide the roasting pan, bare-handed, from the oven. He inclined his countenance at the beautifully browned bird, “This chicken was beheaded, exsanguinated, plucked, brined, flayed, and trussed before being placed into a blazing inferno to burn it for good measure to an internal temperature of...of…”

You approached from behind, a gentle hand touching his shoulder, offering Cas the meat thermometer, “170 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“170?” he asked in confirmation.

You bobbed your head.

“You mean the wooden holster for knives on the counter didn’t tip you off?” Dean smirked.

“It’s called a knife block,” Sam pointed out.

Dean scowled, “I don’t care what you want to call it Rachael Ray, it’s a holster.”

Ignoring the brothers’ bickering, Cas wandered down his own meandering trail of thought, “I understand why some humans choose not to participate in the consumption of meat.”

“Sammy,” Dean coughed into his sleeve.

Sam glowered, “Dean, you’ve seen me eat meat.”

“Yeah, maybe under duress, like, when they’re out of that green junk you always order,” Dean retorted.

“It’s called salad,” Sam scoffed.

Reaching around the blockade of men now occupying the small workspace in front of the stove to turn off the oven, you chided Dean, “Did you just refer to salad as junk food?”

Cas continued to muse, blue gaze glossed philosophically, blissfully uninterrupted by what was going on around him, “The same viciousness applies to the entire food chain really.” He picked up a forsaken green bean from the cutting board, twisting it glumly between his fingertips, “These green beans, for example; the promise of perpetuation of life for the plant contained within these pods were crudely severed by someone’s unsympathetic bare hands. The recipe called for them to be brutally blanched in a pot of boiling water until fork tender, robbing them of their enormous potential for propagation. And what’s worse, now they will be slathered in butter which, contrary to antiquated belief, is not at all an appropriate treatment for burns. It’s really a wonder humanity has survived this long with such a propensity toward violence in every aspect of their existence.”

“Yeah,” Sam met your eyes and parodied the angel’s seriousness, “hunger can drive people to do some pretty horrible things.” He nodded in a mockery of despair at his brother, “Dean in particular. You wouldn’t believe how many pies I’ve seen him carve to pieces.”

Cas visibly trembled.

You bit your lower lip endeavoring not to burst into laughter.

Dean tried and failed to look repentant.

Sam went on, expounding the gruesome details, “This one time he disemboweled an entire strawberry rhubarb single-handedly…”

The angel’s square jaw dropped in horror.

Sam feigned a sniffle at the memory, “…with a spork…in front of a group of school kids. And the stupid grin on his face afterward…I’m sure they still have nightmares.”

Cas carefully considered Sam’s tale, his blue eyes glinting meditatively as he spoke, “I have noticed Dean does seem to relish tormenting those things and people he professes to love most. I had never considered hunger to be a motivating factor.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” you grinned.

Dean curled his lip, shooting the chicken a suspicious glare, “Uh, anyone else think we should just order pizza?”

Turkey Trouble? At Butterball, Operators Are Still Standing By

NAPERVILLE, Ill. — The internet should have killed the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line years ago, but all the Google searches, YouTube videos and turkey tweets in the world can’t match the small-bore magic that happens here on the fifth floor of a suburban office building 34 miles southwest of Chicago.Each year from Nov. 1 through Christmas Eve, 50 Butterball experts ease more than 100,000 nervous cooks through their Thanksgiving meal, either over the phone or, more recently, through text, email or live chat sessions.The talk line started 38 years ago as a marketing gimmick, and has grown into a seasonal slice of Americana as sturdy and reassuring as a Midwestern grandmother with a degree in home economics, which many of the experts are.“People can be just paralyzed with fear,” said Phyllis Kramer, who first took the seasonal job 17 years ago after retiring as a home economist. “All they usually need is someone who takes the time to be personal and sympathetic.”Ms. Kramer embraces the talk-line ethos, which requires a cheery, solution-oriented and nonjudgmental demeanor. But who doesn’t love a good kitchen disaster story? It doesn’t take much to coax the experts into spilling some tea on America’s turkey illiteracy.Their version of comedy gold often centers on thawing, the most common topic among callers. People ask if they can thaw a turkey in the dishwasher, under an electric blanket or in the backyard pool. One man threw a wrapped turkey in the bath water with his two children.Here’s a classic: A man called in, worried about whether his bird would thaw in time. “What state is your turkey in?” the expert asked, trying to do a little culinary detective work. “Florida,” he answered.Then there was the woman who wanted to know if she could check the turkey temperature with a fever thermometer, another who used dish soap to wash the turkey and the newlywed who called from a closet, fearful that her mother-in-law would discover she didn’t know how to roast a turkey.Ms. Kramer’s favorite call came five years ago, when a group she suspects was fueled by a few holiday cocktails complained that the 21-pound turkey they had just pulled from the oven had barely any meat. She was puzzled, but then had a moment of what she called divine inspiration. “Turn the turkey over,” she suggested. They had cooked it breast-side down.“The internet isn’t going to tell them that,” Ms. Kramer said.The Butterball talk line is one of the great marketing ideas of modern American consumerism, right up there with using a national baking contest to promote Pillsbury flour, or Clydesdales to sell Budweiser. It was born in 1981, when Pam Talbot, an executive of the Chicago public relations firm founded by the feisty former journalist Daniel J. Edelman, pitched the idea as a way to help deal with what she tagged “turkey trauma.”The first year, six women fielded 11,000 calls on a toll-free line — no small thing in an age before unlimited calling plans and mobile phones. Their reference material was contained in small binders.Today, the experts, all of whom possess some kind of culinary or nutritional background, have an elaborate database of turkey tips and recipes at their fingertips, with links at the ready to send out via text and social media. Last year, Butterball loaded answers spoken in the experts’ voices into Amazon’s Alexa voice assistant.They do their best to keep up with the trends. Last year, there were a lot of questions about Instant Pots and sous vide. This year, spatchcocking and air frying are popular. And always, there are questions about deep-frying.Still, the people in headsets remain steadfast in the belief that the company’s preferred method is best: Coat the turkey with oil or cooking spray. Use a shallow roasting pan with a rack, a bed of aromatic vegetables or, in a pinch, a coil of foil. Cook at 325 degrees. A 10- to 18-pound turkey will take three to three-and-a-half hours if you don’t open the oven to baste it, which isn’t necessary anyway. The thigh should reach 180 degrees and the breast 170 degrees, which you achieve by placing a foil tent over the breast in the last half-hour.The Edelman company still helps coordinate the talk line, which has so embedded itself in popular culture that it’s namechecked regularly on talk shows, and once worked its way into the fictional Oval Office on “The West Wing.”“It’s the most brilliant piece of branding,” said Joanna Saltz, the editorial director of Delish and House Beautiful. “In the day and age of automated everything, getting a live human on the phone on the most culinarily challenging day of the year? It’s so genius. It’s like calling the police.”Evan Kleiman, the former Los Angeles restaurateur who answers Thanksgiving questions during her prerecorded radio show, “Good Food,” is a steadfast fan. “It’s some woman talking you off the ledge,” she said. “Don’t you wish there was one for everything else?”The call traffic starts picking up in earnest the Thursday before Thanksgiving, which Butterball calls National Thaw Day. Go time is Thanksgiving itself. The action starts as soon as the line opens at 6 a.m. and doesn’t stop until it closes 12 hours later.They pull down extra pay that day, although everyone from the supervisors down to the people working in the back row of the call center are tight-lipped about how much they make. But they cheerfully point out that everyone also gets a free turkey.To keep their voices from going hoarse on Thanksgiving Day, the experts rely on soup, mints and plenty of water. They’ll field more than 10,000 calls. (That’s a mere drop in the gravy boat compared with the estimated 40 million turkeys that will be cooked on Thanksgiving.)The concept is so enduring that competitors like Jennie-O Turkey Store and food media organizations have adopted it. The Splendid Table host Francis Lam will preside over a panel of cooks including the New York Times columnist Melissa Clark, who will take calls live for few hours on Thanksgiving Day.Food52 runs a hotline through email. The goal is to answer people within 10 minutes, said Amanda Hesser, a founder and former Times food journalist who will work two shifts herself this year.She concedes that a phone line is the gold standard. “Hearing a reassuring voice on the other end of the line is powerful,” she said. “Under the surface, the people who call are really looking for a connection.”The Butterball help-line office, with a doorbell that gobbles and an inflatable roast turkey, is not a place where culinary envelopes are pushed or global perspectives are embraced. Culturally, the talk line is as white as a turkey breast. The help it offers — based on hundreds of tests on Butterball products — is safe, reliable and seasoned with not much more than salt and pepper.That’s what callers are usually looking for. At least it was for Jee Won Park, a New York publicist who called the Butterball line in 1997, when she was in her early 20s.A friend in New Jersey had bought and stuffed a big turkey, and she headed over to help him cook it. After about four hours, a little red plastic button inserted into the breast as a guide to indicate doneness had failed to pop up. Was it done?Ms. Park didn’t know anything about roasting turkeys because her Korean-born parents never did it. A call to his friend’s mother, who had immigrated from China, was equally fruitless.In those days, internet searches were still cumbersome. There was no other option than to call Butterball.“It gave us some agency,” she said. The woman on the other end of the line was wonderful, but ultimately couldn’t help the desperate cooks because they didn’t know how much the turkey weighed, nor did they have a meat thermometer. They ended up roasting it for about six hours, and it was awful.“It didn’t feel like a gimmick, and that’s the beauty of it still,” Ms. Park said. “In some ways it’s a selfless kind of thing. I know they benefit, but it doesn’t feel gross to me.”Of course, the talk line is ultimately about selling turkeys. And data gathered from the callers helps Butterball’s marketing strategy. But why be so cynical on Thanksgiving? There’s a lot of heart here underneath the corporate logos that hang on the walls.Many of the experts have developed longstanding friendships. They have worked together for decades, watching babies grow up and mourning the passing of family members. In the off season, some meet up for dinner or weekend trips.It’s the kind of bond that can be formed only when the calls are stacking up like dirty dinner plates and a cook’s emotional state on the nation’s premier food holiday is precarious.Only a fellow Butterballer knows how difficult it is to not launch into a lecture about oven calibration when an angry caller blames you because a turkey took five hours instead of three to cook. Who else understands what it was like during the talk line’s early #MeToo moments when men would call to ask if the women made “house calls”? One particular creep, emboldened by a very homey Ladies of the Talk-Line calendar in 2002, called to ask an expert’s breast size.Last year, they had to contend with a flood of calls from anxious parents who had been trolled as part of the viral turkey challenge, in which their children sent them texts asking how long to microwave a frozen 25-pound turkey, and then posted the befuddled responses online.Almost all of the experts have that one deeply meaningful call. It came for Bill Nolan in 2016. He’s a chef and retired culinary educator whose other job involves preparing meals for a group of priests. He is relatively new — one of only a few men on the talk line, which didn’t hire its first until 2013.Mr. Nolan picked up a call from a widowed man the day before Thanksgiving. “He said his wife was gone, but he wanted to make that first Thanksgiving meal without her for his family,” Mr. Nolan said.Tears came to his eyes as he told the rest of the story. Although the average call is about three minutes, he spent almost a half-hour with the man, coaching him through a simple Thanksgiving meal.“I mean, here was this guy in a house by himself who called us to help,” Mr. Nolan said. “We don’t cure cancer and we don’t save lives, but maybe that guy had a good meal.”

Traffic on the Turkey Talk-Line on Thanksgiving Day 2018

Calls 11,265Texts 3,758Live chats 1,002Emails 371Average call length 3 minutes, 9 secondsAverage hold time 4 minutes, 17 secondsButterball Turkey Talk-Line 800-288-8372, text 844-877-3456, email butterball.com/contact-us. Source link Read the full article

A Pokemon Sword/Shield draft, because we are a sports website

Photo by David McNew/Getty Images

Gotta draft ‘em all!

Pokemon. Domesticated animals trained to fight for the amusement of humans in an alt-history hellscape where children are forced from their houses in their preteens to capture and battle others under the guise of growth into adulthood. It’s perfect and we love it!

Friday marks the release of Pokemon Sword/Shield, the latest game in the series. Being the avid sportspeople we are, and thriving on competition at the expense of others we decided to draft a six Pokemon team made entirely of Pokemon which are returning to the series. We were not allowed to draft the only returning legendary Pokemon (Mew), and were given the freedom to draft to our heart. Here is what we did.

Brittany Cheng

Lucario, 10. Hydregion, 11. Gardevoir, 20. Bewear, 21. Gengar, 30. Lapras

The moment I signed up for this, I was stressed — especially because I’ve been AWOL from the Pokemon world after Gen 4. Thankfully a mix of Silph Road message boards, Quora replies, and the kindness of a top Pokemon expert from our sister gaming website, Polygon, helped me select the best team.

I got lucky, too. If Zion Williamson is on the board, why wouldn’t I take him first?

I don’t need to defend my other picks; I know I already won the draft since my No. 1 pick made my boss react “OH FUCK YOU.”

Graham: Honestly I’m not sure that spending your first pick in the draft deliberately spiting your boss is a good career choice.

James: I’d burn you, but I’ve never seen someone so stressed out about the basic concept of drafting Pokemon. Sorry to break the fourth wall for our readers, but you were definitely wracked with anxiety every time your pick came back up. I don’t want you to endure that pain so I love your draft. Good picks. Zero problems.

Christian: Would eat: Lapras. Wouldn’t eat: everyone else.

Matt: Gardevoir is definitely on Tik Tok so I’m upset to miss it for my team of social media All-Stars. Also shouts to Britt for drafting Graham’s favorite Pokemon No. 1 and sending this draft in chaos mode from the get-go.

Graham MacAree

2. Aegislash, 9. Toxapex, 12. Charizard, 19. Ferrothorn, 22. Togekiss, 29. Weaville

Aegislash gives a strong counter to Lucario at 1.1 and can sweep with Swords Dance while using King’s Shield to disrupt any physical attackers taken later. The rest of the Pokemon were taken with roles plus type composition in mind, with something of an eye towards specific checks:

Toxapex can deal with James’ Tyranitar, Scald physical attackers and sit as a very difficult defensive barrier.

Charizard gives some versatility with its different mega-evolution forms and wide moveset, but will mostly be used as a drought-powered special wallbreaker.

Ferrothorn is another answer to Tyranitar plus can set Stealth Rock and stall with Leech Seed/protect.

Togekiss running Defog is not an ideal hazard clearer but the available Pokemon who can use Defog or Rapid Spin is astonishingly low. Can also help with team status and go for flinch locks.

Weaville is here as a fast revenge killer, if necessary, and gives some type coverage we were missing with Pursuit.

Aegislash can do most of the hard work and, given the Pokemon available, I think the rest of the team balances and supports it well enough. I’m a little worried about that Gengar on Britt’s team, though, and there’s also no clean way to bring in Pokemon through pivot moves. Prediction and smart play, as always will be key.

James: Nerd.

Britt: Nerd.

Christian: Would eat: Charizard, Togekiss. Wouldn’t eat: everyone else.

Matt: Charizard is the only real Pokemon on this list in my opinion. Also, nerd.

James Dator

3. Tyranitar, 8. Wishiwashi, 13. Mimikyu, 18. Drampa, 23. Sawk, 28. Vikavolt

I’m not going to sit here and tell you my team is perfect. I’m not going to tell you they’re a top-tier team of killers and world-ruiners, but I will say that they make me happy. In the end that’s all that matters.

Tyranitar is my beefy thick boy to hold down the fort, while also offering that excellent rock/dark type to get me through some early fights. Mimikyu is my sad pokemon, which is personally important to me, considering my natural proclivity for Psyduck.

Wishiwashi is the pick I know people will criticize, but he’s my Rudy, my Hail Mary. I really like the Pokemon who go from zero-to-hero like watching an episode of Queer Eye, but with Wishiwashi it’ll hit school form and become a murderer in one battle — not like waiting on a sad-ass Magikarp to get its act together.

Britt: I offered to trade you Bewear for Wishiwashi, so you deserve all the burns you get.

Christian: I bet I could eat all these Pokemen. Maybe not Vikavolt.

Matt: Tyranitar is def a bully who gets likes on IG because people are afraid of it, so I’m upset to not have it on my socia media team. Also Wishiwashi is a hilarious name. Proud of it.

Christian D’Andrea

4. Mamoswine, 7. Mudsdale, 14. Unfezant, 17. Pelipper, 24. Vanilluxe , 27. Wobbuffet

I have never played Pokemon, but we needed a fifth for the draft. My picks were solely based on how much I’d like to eat each of these characters. With a bottom-two pick, I invested solely in winning the “most delicious” crown.

Mamoswine: Half pig, half mammoth. You remember the opening credits for the Flintstones? This is where those car-destroying ribs came from.

Mudsdale: I could only find one cow-looking Pokemon (Tauros), and he wasn’t eligible for selection. I’m gonna have to settle for horse steaks instead. And since this thing is half Clydesdale, I’m gonna have a ton of them.

Unfezant: The most spatchcockable Pokemon on the board. Can’t believe he lasted to the third round. Plus you can save all that unfezant fat and fry potatoes in them afterward.

Pelipper: I kinda choked on this one. I thought this was a giant, fat, belligerent chicken, like Foghorn Leghorn (delicious). Instead it’s a pelican. I bet I could still eat it!

Vanilluxe: It’s literally ice cream. Most obvious pick of the day.

Wobbuffet: BUFFET IS RIGHT THERE IN THE NAME

What’re you guys gonna do when your Pokemen fall in battle? Bury them solemnly? Pretend like nothing happened?

I’m gonna eat like a goddamn king.

Britt: I told you to draft Oddish for a balanced diet. Better check your arteries and cholesterol.

Christian: The idea of eating a radish is by far the most unrealistic thing to happen in this draft.

Matt: Why are we eating Pokemon again? I’m concerned and I think I have to call the police? Actually, you can eat Wobbuffet.

Matt Ellentuck

5. Milotic, 6. Gyrados, 15. Machamp, 16. Ninetails, 25. Snorlax, 26, Ludicolo

I had very important criteria for my picks. I selected the six who I felt would make the strongest social media team, and I’ll explain why.

My first two picks were Milotic and Gyrados because they are both hot sea monsters. That means they’ll get a lot of likes on IG. Then I picked Machamp because it’d make a dope fitness account, and Ninetails because it definitely wears designer clothes for the ‘Gram. Snorlax is, without a doubt, a depressed meme poster. And Ludicolo def gets WILD on main. He’ll get a lot of “SIR” reply tweets, but hey, engagement is engagement.

That’s a damn squad right there.

Graham: While drafting entirely for Pokemon hotness is a fun goof it also raises some concerns about ... well, a lot of things.

James: While drafting entirely for Pokemon hotness is a fun goof it also raises my opinion and value of you as both a coworker and a person. Live your truth.

Graham: Yeah, James is right. No* judgement.

Christian: I don’t want to eat any of these sexy Pokemen.

Britt: Matt, you’re on cancellation watch.

Sam gets sick. Bucky makes soup.

“Sorry, man,” Sam says, sounding froggy as hell. “I know you were going to come by tonight, but I feel like ass.” “No problem,” Bucky says into his phone. He pulls away to look at the time and the day, then brings the phone back to his face. “‘Nother time,” he says, and hangs up. Shrugging on his jacket, Bucky grabs his wallet and stuffs it into his pocket, along with his phone. He knows he has enough time to get to the butcher on Atlantic, but the one on Amity has the best kosher birds, and his mother did not raise him to use just any old chicken for soup. An hour and half later, he makes his way into his apartment. This would be easier at Stevie’s, but that would defeat the purpose. He surveys the wreck of a kitchen. There’s something dark brown and weeping on the counter by the toaster. Bucky knows from experience that disturbing it will lead to gag inducing smells, and he doesn’t have time to spare. Bucky sets a pot of water on the stove and turns the oven up high. Breaking down the chickens is easy - the butcher already spatchcocked them, so all he has to do hack out the breasts while tossing the necks, backs, legs and thighs into the stock pot. He quarters a couple of onions and throws in a few broken carrots for good measure. The tender, inner ribs of the stalk of celery go next, along with some bay and a handful of peppercorns. Bucky sets the flame to low and waits. Three and a half hours later, he has a gorgeous stock; the collagen has melted from the bones, giving it just the right mouth feel. Bucky spoons off the schmaltz, setting it aside for later use. He thinks about tossing it with some par-boiled potatoes, maybe forking out the cash for one of the tomahawk cut rib-eyes to go with ‘em, and wonders for a moment how Sam likes his steak. Bucky hopes Sam’s not like Steve - medium well, the fucking animal - and realizes it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s just a pipe dream. Boning the roasted chicken breasts, Bucky sets the rib meat aside and throws a few cups of diced veg into the stock. His ma always likes to add zucchini, and once she even tossed in some cauliflower, but Bucky’s a purist like his Nana, so he only adds onion, carrot and celery. He takes out the pound of egg noodles he bought from Mrs. Fierelli. They’re thick and squat and still coated in flour. They’ll trick the soup into a stew without even trying. Gabe walks in while Bucky’s adding the noodles, a maddeningly slow process that takes more time than it should. Still, adding them all at once makes a brick of noodle at the bottom of the pot, and fuck it, he’s spent this long cooking. Might as well do it right. “Mama Barnes’ chicken soup?” “None for you,” Bucky says, wiping his hands on the towel over his shoulder. “Come on, man, don’t do me like that.” Bucky shrugs, giving him his best baby-faced look. “Sorry. Got a sick friend.” Gabe laughs, then draws away, the smiling falling from his face. “Shit, you’re serious. Steve okay? Is he in the hospital or something?” Bucky shakes his head, ducking away from Gabe’s gaze to hide the flush of heat crawling down his neck. “‘S’not Steve,” Bucky mumbles, then grabs another handful of noodles to add to the soup. “Are you…?” Gabe smiles, then draws back and studies him. “Oh, hell no. You are, aren’t you? Goddamn.” Humming, Bucky says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you shut the fuck up, I might leave you some of this soup.” Gabe laughs, squeezes Bucky’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay. Hey, you tell Sam I hope he’s feeling better soon.” Smirking, Gabe walks away and Bucky waits for the flame in his cheeks to die down. While the noodles cook, Bucky grabs the egg, flour, and milk, and starts prepping the dough for the drop noodles. It’s probably overkill, but like his Ma says, anything worth doing is worth overdoing. Once the noodles start to float to the top, Bucky adds the chunks of chicken that he’d roasted earlier. He samples the soup, adding just a little more salt and pepper, and a handful of finely minced sweet parsley. Perfect. He pours most of the soup into quart sized take out containers and then places them into a plastic bag. It’s a 20 minute trip to Sam’s place. it should still be plenty hot by the time he gets there. When Steve opens the door, Bucky almost turns away. The look of pity on his best friend’s face is almost more than Bucky can take. “Oh, hi Bucky,” he says, half over his shoulder, his voice obnoxiiously loud. “What brings you by?” He gives Bucky a meaningful look, and Bucky feels free to ignore it. “Me and some of the guys had dinner nearby. Thought I’d bring you two plague victims sustenence.” “Don’t look at me,” Steve says, backing away from the door. “I feel great.” “Rogers,” Sam yells from the couch. “Who is id?” Bucky peers around Steve, and, damn. Sam is a mess. He’s got a couple of Sarah Grant’s afghans over his lap and is wearing one of Steve ridiculously big hoodies on, with the hood pulled up, and a litter of crumpled white Kleenex’s all around him. “Dude,” Bucky says, walking in and toward Sam. “You look like shit.” “Oh my god, fuck off,” Sam says, swiping at his nose with the Kleenex and leaning back to close his eyes. Bucky laughs, then holds out the bag of soup. “Here,” he says, and Sam cracks open one eye, looking wary. “Was having dinner nearby and brought you some soup. ‘S’posed to be pretty good.” Sam makes grabby hands and Bucky gives him the bag. Digging around, Sam opens one container and dips one of the plastic spoons that Bucky added into the soup, then tastes. “Holy shit, I take it all back. I love you, Barnes,” Sam says. Bucky smirks. “Yeah, well, my work here is done. See ya, losers.” He turns and heads toward the door. He gets away clean, or so he thinks, but then hears the door open and close quickly behind him. “Buck,” Steve says, reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on, Stevie, not tonight.” “Man, come on, you gotta tell him.” Bucky sighs, shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “I know.” He looks up at Steve and there’s that look again, that pitying look, and Bucky can’t stand it. “I know,” he says again, looking away. “But not tonight, okay, Stevie. Not tonight.” Steve groans and drags Bucky in for a tight hug before pulling away. “You get the good noodles?” “Yeah, and the kniffles.” “Shit,” Steve says, and Bucky can see his mouth watering. “You’re still a jerk,” he says. “And you’re a punk,” Bucky answers, shrugging. “Make sure he uses the lemon, yeah?” Steve gives Bucky a weak salute, then turns to go back inside. Bucky walks to the elevator and presses the button, a smile stealing over his face. Yeah, he might be in love with Sam Wilson, and no, he’s probably never going to tell him. Sam doesn’t want that from him, and Bucky’s made his peace with it. But he can still take care of Sam. He can still send him to sleep full of the best chicken soup in the world. Bucky can get his love into him that way, and that...that’s going to have to be enough. @buffyscribbles because I promised.

A Pokemon Sword/Shield draft, because we are a sports website

Photo by David McNew/Getty Images

Gotta draft ‘em all!

Pokemon. Domesticated animals trained to fight for the amusement of humans in an alt-history hellscape where children are forced from their houses in their preteens to capture and battle others under the guise of growth into adulthood. It’s perfect and we love it!

This week we will experience Pokemon Sword/Shield, the latest in the series. Being the avid sportspeople we are, and thriving on competition at the expense of others we decided to draft a six Pokemon team made entirely of Pokemon which are returning to the series. We were not allowed to draft the only returning legendary Pokemon (Mew), and were given the freedom to draft to our heart. Here is what we did.

Brittany Cheng

Lucario, 10. Hydregion, 11. Gardevoir, 20. Bewear, 21. Gengar, 30. Lapras

The moment I signed up for this, I was stressed — especially because I’ve been AWOL from the Pokemon world after Gen 4. Thankfully a mix of Silph Road message boards, Quora replies, and the kindness of a top Pokemon expert from our sister gaming website, Polygon, helped me select the best team.

I got lucky, too. If Zion Williamson is on the board, why wouldn’t I take him first?

I don’t need to defend my other picks; I know I already won the draft since my No. 1 pick made my boss react “OH FUCK YOU.”

Graham: Honestly I’m not sure that spending your first pick in the draft deliberately spiting your boss is a good career choice.

James: I’d burn you, but I’ve never seen someone so stressed out about the basic concept of drafting Pokemon. Sorry to break the fourth wall for our readers, but you were definitely wracked with anxiety every time your pick came back up. I don’t want you to endure that pain so I love your draft. Good picks. Zero problems.

Christian: Would eat: Lapras. Wouldn’t eat: everyone else.

Matt: Gardevoir is definitely on Tik Tok so I’m upset to miss it for my team of social media All-Stars. Also shouts to Britt for drafting Graham’s favorite Pokemon No. 1 and sending this draft in chaos mode from the get-go.

Graham MacAree

2. Aegislash, 9. Toxapex, 12. Charizard, 19. Ferrothorn, 22. Togekiss, 29. Weaville

Aegislash gives a strong counter to Lucario at 1.1 and can sweep with Swords Dance while using King’s Shield to disrupt any physical attackers taken later. The rest of the Pokemon were taken with roles plus type composition in mind, with something of an eye towards specific checks:

Toxapex can deal with James’ Tyranitar, Scald physical attackers and sit as a very difficult defensive barrier.

Charizard gives some versatility with its different mega-evolution forms and wide moveset, but will mostly be used as a drought-powered special wallbreaker.

Ferrothorn is another answer to Tyranitar plus can set Stealth Rock and stall with Leech Seed/protect.

Togekiss running Defog is not an ideal hazard clearer but the available Pokemon who can use Defog or Rapid Spin is astonishingly low. Can also help with team status and go for flinch locks.

Weaville is here as a fast revenge killer, if necessary, and gives some type coverage we were missing with Pursuit.

Aegislash can do most of the hard work and, given the Pokemon available, I think the rest of the team balances and supports it well enough. I’m a little worried about that Gengar on Britt’s team, though, and there’s also no clean way to bring in Pokemon through pivot moves. Prediction and smart play, as always will be key.

James: Nerd.

Britt: Nerd.

Christian: Would eat: Charizard, Togekiss. Wouldn’t eat: everyone else.

Matt: Charizard is the only real Pokemon on this list in my opinion. Also, nerd.

James Dator

3. Tyranitar, 8. Wishiwashi, 13. Mimikyu, 18. Drampa, 23. Sawk, 28. Vikavolt

I’m not going to sit here and tell you my team is perfect. I’m not going to tell you they’re a top-tier team of killers and world-ruiners, but I will say that they make me happy. In the end that’s all that matters.

Tyranitar is my beefy thick boy to hold down the fort, while also offering that excellent rock/dark type to get me through some early fights. Mimikyu is my sad pokemon, which is personally important to me, considering my natural proclivity for Psyduck.

Wishiwashi is the pick I know people will criticize, but he’s my Rudy, my Hail Mary. I really like the Pokemon who go from zero-to-hero like watching an episode of Queer Eye, but with Wishiwashi it’ll hit school form and become a murderer in one battle — not like waiting on a sad-ass Magikarp to get its act together.

Britt: I offered to trade you Bewear for Wishiwashi, so you deserve all the burns you get.

Christian: I bet I could eat all these Pokemen. Maybe not Vikavolt.

Matt: Tyranitar is def a bully who gets likes on IG because people are afraid of it, so I’m upset to not have it on my socia media team. Also Wishiwashi is a hilarious name. Proud of it.

Christian D’Andrea

4. Mamoswine, 7. Mudsdale, 14. Unfezant, 17. Pelipper, 24. Vanilluxe , 27. Wobbuffet

I have never played Pokemon, but we needed a fifth for the draft. My picks were solely based on how much I’d like to eat each of these characters. With a bottom-two pick, I invested solely in winning the “most delicious” crown.

Mamoswine: Half pig, half mammoth. You remember the opening credits for the Flintstones? This is where those car-destroying ribs came from.

Mudsdale: I could only find one cow-looking Pokemon (Tauros), and he wasn’t eligible for selection. I’m gonna have to settle for horse steaks instead. And since this thing is half Clydesdale, I’m gonna have a ton of them.

Unfezant: The most spatchcockable Pokemon on the board. Can’t believe he lasted to the third round. Plus you can save all that unfezant fat and fry potatoes in them afterward.

Pelipper: I kinda choked on this one. I thought this was a giant, fat, belligerent chicken, like Foghorn Leghorn (delicious). Instead it’s a pelican. I bet I could still eat it!

Vanilluxe: It’s literally ice cream. Most obvious pick of the day.

Wobbuffet: BUFFET IS RIGHT THERE IN THE NAME

What’re you guys gonna do when your Pokemen fall in battle? Bury them solemnly? Pretend like nothing happened?

I’m gonna eat like a goddamn king.

Britt: I told you to draft Oddish for a balanced diet. Better check your arteries and cholesterol.

Christian: The idea of eating a radish is by far the most unrealistic thing to happen in this draft.

Matt: Why are we eating Pokemon again? I’m concerned and I think I have to call the police? Actually, you can eat Wobbuffet.

Matt Ellentuck

5. Milotic, 6. Gyrados, 15. Machamp, 16. Ninetails, 25. Snorlax, 26, Ludicolo

I had very important criteria for my picks. I selected the six who I felt would make the strongest social media team, and I’ll explain why.

My first two picks were Milotic and Gyrados because they are both hot sea monsters. That means they’ll get a lot of likes on IG. Then I picked Machamp because it’d make a dope fitness account, and Ninetails because it definitely wears designer clothes for the ‘Gram. Snorlax is, without a doubt, a depressed meme poster. And Ludicolo def gets WILD on main. He’ll get a lot of “SIR” reply tweets, but hey, engagement is engagement.

That’s a damn squad right there.

Graham: While drafting entirely for Pokemon hotness is a fun goof it also raises some concerns about ... well, a lot of things.

James: While drafting entirely for Pokemon hotness is a fun goof it also raises my opinion and value of you as both a coworker and a person. Live your truth.

Graham: Yeah, James is right. No* judgement.

Christian: I don’t want to eat any of these sexy Pokemen.

Britt: Matt, you’re on cancellation watch.