Monday, September 26

never eschew the cashew....

cookies.
cooooooookies.
COOKIES.
i love 'em,
and i eat 'em,
and i make 'em a LOT.
mmmmmmmm.
dudes,
i had some cashews hanging out-
so,
you KNOW i had to use 'em.
well, i mean, c'mon-
cashews are good.
like, really good.
i roasted them first,
just to activate the proper flavor explosions when the cookie scene got poppin'.....
and a whole big ol' batch of roasted cashew-laced treats isn't ever gonna let me down.
and they didn't disappoint me.
not one tiny little bit.
check the teleport:


kaboom.
huh?
i used the BIG sexy chocolate chunks, too.
neighbors,
these jauns are expert.
y'know what i did?
...i did the best i knew how.
and this is what that included:
1 cup of roasted whole cashews, chopped afterwards.
12 oz of dark chocolate chunks
10T butts
3 T creamchee'
1 cup light brown sugar
1 cup spelt flour
1 1/2 cups a.p. flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp each baking kapowder and soda
4 oz coconut yogurt
1/2 cup ground coconut
2 tsp vanilla
-
butts, chee' sugar, salt, vanilla, yogurt- in that order.
then,
flours, leavens, nuts and chunks.
it's easy.
i rolled 'em, and squished 'em, and baked 'em at 375 for 13 apiece,
and let the whole mess cool off enough to drizzle that chocolate sauce all over the place.
guys,
i made them as a  goodbye to my friends.
they're gone,
and i'm still here,
which is essentially the same story it's always been,
over and over, for as long as i've lived here.
the thing is,
kindness is not a wasted action,
because you get the goods even as you give it away.
it's synergy.
and that's good for you...
*
it's cold.
it's dark.
it's the end of september.
all of it is really unfurling like blackened pirate's sails,
taking away the bright spots and the treasures,
to be replaced by a week of falafel all too soon.
uh-huh.
it's almost THAT time of year again.
i hope you're braced for the fury.
i know my hatches are battened;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Sunday, September 25

tarting.

strawberries and chocolate!
strawberries.
...AND chocolate.
dudes,
strawberries and chocolate!!!
c'mon.
i'm 100% about that life, y'feel me?
how could i not be?
i mean,
on the ones-
that's that sexxxy sh!t.
you know it;
i know it;
we all know it-
and seriously,
since it's such a well-known level eleven hottness combination:
if you happen to be one of the unfortunate tasteless turds who can't hang tough
with that sort of superfancy stuff?
oh MAN,
then, you are clearly an A*-hole, and we're done here.
however,
if you're down to get down with the get down,
well, then,
check the teleport:
FUEGO PICANTE CALIENTE EXPLOSIVO!!!!
mmmmmmmm.
so simple.
i'm almost embarrassed that they're so good.
pastry rounds, from my patented pastry proportions.
strawberry jam blops spread down thin first thing,
a handful of chocolate chunks.
the chunks are key, here-
chips could work, but they'd be less lusciously indulgently dope.
y'need that semisweet shrapnel for activating the expertism, for sure.
fresh sliced strawberries, with vanilla-infused sugar sprankled on top,
to get the juices flowing.
i pinched all the edges, but baking that superbuttery dough unfolded every effort.
i ended up with crusty, crispy plates under all my toppings.
y'know what?
they're still rad, and they taste exactly the same, so i can live with that.
i baked 'em at 410F for thirty.
on parchment.
...and when they were coolish enough to mess with?
mmhmm.
i messed with 'em.
kapowdered sugar dustin',
and ganache drizzle-stripin' hottness!!
what do we call that?
oh, right: that's expert.
that's the way to really keep traditions alive.
traditions?
yeah, man.
too much is the right amount.
that's a thing.
-
i make the nice, guys.
i think it's important to do pretty things,
especially if you're anything like me.
what?
well,
you gotta balance it out.
i think that's a good idea.
i don't know how to display my best intentions in words.
the temptation, the urge, the instinctual drive to deliver clever quips
supersedes all of my best ideas.
the brutal barbarian battle-beastly bard in me wants to be noticed.
the thing of it is,
so does the professional appreciator of beauty and sweetness.
that's where the cakes come into play.
flip sides of a coin, kids.
without the bitter, the sweet's just not as sweet.
....that sort of sh!t.
baking is quiet, save the clang of pots and pans.
talking can be nice,
and the right words do fall into place like well-balanced ingredients
when i set myself to the task of competent communication-
i bake things.
i break things.
and all of it is really happening, right this second;
never quiet, never soft.....

dawn's early light.

the brightest sky. clear and crisp and vast,
with stars like candles.
and the moon, a floodlight,
bathing the whole of the woodsly goodness in azure and cobalt-
....and me,
watching crabtree take a thunderous and unholy sh!t at 5 a..m.
ugh.
it's called ruining it.
and that's the way we doo-doo our daily rituals.
neighbors,
i rep a very hard style,
and it includes early mornings,
late nights,
strong language,
and enthusiastic violence of action,
i enact, inflict, and ultimately endure explosions and outbursts
of creative self-destruction,
and deconstructive self- exploration-
rolling around next to,
and punctu(punctured)ated amongst the sharp sharp teeth of,
this F*ing dog.
in between bouts of barbarian battle and beastly break-beat bard business,
i bake things.
and when i do,
i make sure to snap a shot,
so i have something to show you guys.
mmhmmmm.
i made cookies.
maple sugar cookies.
double-buttery maple sugary crispy crawnchy snappy shapes of leaves and stars.
wanna see?
ok.
teleport:

niiiiiiiiice.
the cookies were so straightforward,
i had to sexxx up the shot, with autumnal hottness and accoutrements.
i'm not even gonna tell you how to make these cookies.
seriously.
it's butter, sugar, flour, vanilla, baking powpow and soda, salt, and maple syrup.
simple.
i used a lot of butts.
that's all the help you get.
***********
i've got oatmeal bread in the oven,
and i've got strawberry chocolate crisps that just came out of it.
these days are the type that blur by too fast.
you always think you've got just a bit more time,
but,
you don't.
i've got not enough  groceries in my ever-emptier fridge;
i've got too many unfulfilled chores piling up at work-
simple little somethings-
like cutting dropcloths, and organizing disposables-
that become a messy mountain looming in my line of sight
as i run a little late each and every day
yeah.
it's not the schedule, it's the supply chain.
i'm forever trying to make the experience memorable,
and enjoyable, and relatable to the clients who are smart enough,
lucky enough,
dumb enough,
or just plain' ol' indifferent enough to end up in my chair for the big show.
hahahaha.
that requires the exxxtra-effort you'd expect from someone
who believes in instigating loud, fresh, hardness for your face.
i don't want mundane experiences.
i don't want boring stories.
i want to have more to do than i could possibly fit,
and still get more finished than you'd ever expect.
i promise to leave exhausted.
that's how i know i'm doing my best.
too much is the right amount,
and everything else is wasted time and energy.
if you aren't ready to take it to eleven,
you need to take that weak sauce elsewhere.
tell your story walkin', diaperbabies,
there's too much work to do to sit around.
*
on top of all of that,
as i double-bucket bail away on the rising water inside the sinking ship
i'm sailing off into the sunset of my mutha'-lickin' life,
and as the other boaters seem to be pogo-sticking augur-bitted bottom-bursting holes
into the hull of my whole income-generating situation.
or,
when do i plug my nose, and hope i float as the floor beneath me drops away?
right.
on top of THAT,
today is the day, again.
yup.
another last day,
another 'nother see-you-later-maybe moment.
what can i say?
goodbye, probably.
i'm grateful for the time i'm given,
to span across expanses,
to carry across chasms,
to burn behind me these bridges that meet in the middle.
mmhmm.
that way,
there's no turning back, or looking behind us.
the way forward is paved with goodbyes,
and while that's the pricetag for every new hello,
it seems like no level of inflation can devalue that kind of currency.
so,
i guess that's that.
it's all really happening,
and i'm sure there's a point to all of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, September 23

FALLING!

get up, get to work, get out, and get after it, then go to work;
get out of work, get home, and get back to work.
yup.
i make that move every single day.
why?
because rules is rules.
and that's the way a worthy warrior poet does his thing.
yesterday,
my dude nate is one the east coast, staying down in southern maine,
coming by way of the california side of lake tahoe.
but,
he was all up in this woodsly goodness especially to see me!
expert recognize expert, i suspect.
so,
the least i could do, as a gracious adherent of viking values
and a disciple of the virtues of gratitude and generosity,
was provide something good to eat for his face.
uh-huh.
i did just that, too.
bouncing out of the job-spot,
and jaunting over to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
so we could experience some fall fiesta flavors, in F*ing full-effect.
it's nice to have an audience to witness the complete lack of direction,
and the overabundance of drive,
that make the mealtimes come together through sheer explosive force of will.
i'm like that, and i like when someone can bear witness to the process.
what did i make?
i made some heavy-handed heavyweight starch explosions, son!!
check the equinox-dinner-type teleport:

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD.
i confess, i prepared the tart ahead of time,
but i baked it when i got back to the warm embrace of my kitchen.
my patented pastry crust was perfect,
the blue potatoes were soft, the leeks were all melty,
the carrots were smoky in their caramelization.
thee beets?
well,
twice baked beets can't be beat for tasting sweet and a lot less like dirtbombs.
nice.
the brussels were a bit hard,
but i sort of suspected that tiny whole brussies might be resistant to the oven.
didn't matter,
my homemade gravy, and the molto buttery blops and gouts of crust and cream
more than made up for any overly firm bites.
ha!
i had the oven raging at 410F,
which is damned hot,
but it broiled the bejeezus out of those button mushrooms,
and the woodiest, meatiest, thickest flavors rose to the surface.
guys,
salt and olive oil and hot were the only ingredients.
that's dope.
i laid down a bed of leafy greens, strong-to-the-finish-style,
so i could have some correct color-matching to set off those butter-seared seitan steaks.
friends,
i used cornstach, and GPOP, and  ground mustard,
aleppo pepper, black pepper, smoked paprika, and nootch,
and floured them up for a ferocious crust, sealing in all that soft, tender sexxxiness.
i don't think nate was ready for that much hottness,
but he acquitted himself nicely, and cleared his plate like a champion.
sweet.
the mushrooms, some parsley spranks, some tomatoes,
and a whole mess of gravy completed the look for that meatless meat.
delicious just isn't a strong enough word.
i steamed that broccolini over a bed of sweet onion,
and i let the onions do what they do as well as a clove or two of chopped garlic.
that's one-pan multitasking, and that's a new thing for me.
the onions sat out on the side,
and the brox got gravied, and garnished with redder and better tomatoes,
straightforward, but molto expert.
where'd the onions go?
next to the mashed butternut squash, of course!!!
c'mon.
what are you? an A*-hole?
OBvi, the squash needed some sweet jauns to accentuate the hottness.
half a squash, half an onion, two cloves of garlic, and some salt,
boiled up until everything was super soft,
and mashed with butter, GPOP, and brown sugar.
damn!!
everything went to eleven,
and i even got to share it with my homeboy.
that's a good day.
***********
today,
it's going to be a bit darker than yesterday.
i s'pose i'll have to endure it.
tonight, it's going to be longer than it was last night.
again,
i'll endure it.
soon enough, however,
it'll be blacker than black,
and the brightest spots won't be nearby enough to light my way.
what's the secret?
i think you just close your eyes in advance.
once you're used to the dark,
you can navigate completely by feel.
ha.
we can discuss my stubbed toes in just a little bit, i should think.
there's a lot of falling going on.
fall out, fall down, fall apart, fall fall fall.
it's all really happening, and it's not easy, but it IS necessary;
never quiet, never soft.....

FALLEN

it's that time, kids.
the decline and fall of the year.
and what do i love best about whenever there's something to celebrate?
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
seasonally appropriate site-specific TREATS!!!!
you KNOW it, neighbors.
i can't resist a special occasion,
nor can i deny that i've got a high drive for developing celebratory style
when it comes to things i think i probably like.
that's no joke.
that said,
apples aren't exactly my priority. most days.
however, in september,
and on the first day of F*ing fall???
heck yes, kids.
i HAD to bring the big, burly, barbarian battle-bard business to bear,
in a bowl so deep i got lost in it's gravity.
check the autumnal-equinox-rocks-your-socks-type teleport:

kaBOOM!!!
i'm on about a big slice of that ultimate apple jaun.
guys,
i made it up, but i worked it out.
in the end, the combination of delights made my day.
...really.
*
8 gala apples, peeled and cored, and cut into fattie-boombattie chunks,
simmered in real maple syrup, two or three glugs,
and an equal splash of apple cider,
with a handful of sugar,
a spritz of vanilla,
cinnamon, nutmeg, ginge, alspice, and a little baby bit of lemon juice.
all of that, plus a few fat pats of butts, and a pinch of salt,
had the softening underway on medium-low heat almost immediately.
when the juice content got too juicy,
i tempered it with whole rolled oats- one manly fistful,
and i ended up with a perfect pie filling for my trouble.
expert.
-
the outer crust is graham cracker, melted butts, vanilla, and soymilk,
with a little cinnamon to spice it up.
easy. easy. easy.
ten minutes of baking at 350F,
just to set it firmly in place prior to the big baking action
had it all already ready, and waiting,
for a big ol' blop of that fruited-up flavor.
again, that's pretty expert.
-
the topping?
or should i say,
the upper crust?
ha.
oh MAN!
i used about a cup and a quarter of flour,
some pie spices in unspecified quantities,
a dash of salt,
a half a cup of apple cider,
1 tsp ea. baking powpow and soda,
a few tablespoons of sugar,
and another fistful of oats,
to make a pancake-style batter for pouring into all the nooks and sh!t.
nice.
i hit it with brown sugar sprankles,
and MORE oatmeal,
and baked that b!tch for 30ish minutes at 350F, until the top was well-caramelized,
and the apple mush in the middle was steaming.
mmmmmmmmhmmmmmmmm.
totally, completely, autumnally expert.
the BIG deep dish was key, i feel.
i'm serious.
when you're on a mission to mound your mouth with the most magnificence,
you'll likely need a deeper dish to get it done.
i doo-doo that deep d stuffin', duders.
after all,
too much is the right amount.
and that's real.
-
MY slice was a la mode, with an almond milk vanilla scoople,
because i'm not an A*-hole,
and i know what's good.
...speaking of-
i've used up my cool tattoo allotment,
and have moved dow the list into the rent-paying variety of awesome ideas.
and by awesome,
i mean, SOOOOO awesome.
which is to say:
i'll be suffering through a long week of weak sauce,
and letting the ink flow as freely as my tears of disappointment at my appointments.
ha.
awwwwwwww.
a grand don't come for free, guys,
so it's grinding and grinding and grinding from here until the fair.
huh?
oh yes.
i'm working short days that whole week,
just to get my A* out to those zesty, rewarding, lovely, enriching falafels.
hmm?
well,
you are certainly free to find your own bright spots where you may.
mine, however,
are all going to get covered in tahini;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, September 22

goodbye, summer.

well,
it sure was a weird one,
and i say that with complete certainty.
huh?
oh.
i mean, this summer.
it sure was a weird one.
for realsies,
summer '16 really took me for a very toad-like wild ride
down some dirty backroads and alleyways i'd not expected to see again.
and yet, for all my surprise,
here we are, doing the same sh!t, neighbors-
autumn is upon us,
and today is the big day.
the first day.
the kickoff jumpstart beginning.
also,
it's my best friend in the whole entire world's daughter's berfday today.
she's ONE!
that's a big deal.
and i, for one,
in my official position as the weirdest uncle,
am very excited.
that's pretty fresh.
you remember being ONE?
me neither,
but i bet it was pretty  cool.
y'know what else is pretty cool?
tacos.
yup.
i did what i do,
and it was a good idea from the start-
taco time is the best time,
and i sent summer packing with a pile of perfectly prepared foldover flaps.
also,
i dominated the whole dish in a matter of mere minutes.
yup.
lots of prep, but damned short action on the payoff.
sorta like dominoes, y'feel me?
check the last-tacos-of-summer-type teleport:

ADIOS, VERANO!!!!
*
dudes,
that guacamole was tight!
jalapeno, red chili, poblano, orange and yellow bell pepper,
cilantro, red onion, scallion, GPOP, garlic, salt, pepper, lemon, lime,
and delicious, decadent, buttery avocados!!!!!

the coconut lime rice?
with scallion sprankles???
c'mon, man.
that's what's up.
i ate a hundred spoonfuls before i was even finished making anything else.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
*
and what's up with those mutha-'ucking tacos, son!!!!
* oven-roasted fat chips of blue potato,
with red beans, garlic, and leeks,
over torn baby spinach, hooked up with red onion,
scallion, and some weird yellow tomatoes.
SO good.
* seitan asada,
slow marinated with onion, garlic, lime,
cumin, coriander, cilantro, paprika, black pepper, GPOP,
oregano, and ho'sauce,
over shredded purple cabbage, with crushed red tomatoes straight outta the garden,
and cilantro sprankles-
dudes,
BOTH of the kinds of treats i was reppin' got sweet spicy smoky homemade
chipotle mayo drizzles too.
i HAD to.
rules is rules.
limes rule, so i used them heavily.
i like a lot of citrus on my plate.
turns out, i most likely HATE scurvy, too.
seems linearly logical.
***********
it's fall, now.
let's all try not to get too excited.
i know i'm ready for all the new englandy good times that this whole region
waits for all year long.
we're the o.g. sweaters and woodstoves crew up here.
it's all really happening,
the change of season,
the equinox,
the shift in light and dark-
the balance is skewed from here on out,
so it's likely up to us to make things brighter.
i know what i'm doing.
i hope you do too;
never quiet, never soft.....

FUEGO-ing, going, gone!

the last days of summer?
awwwwwww.
what does one do,
when one is worthy,
and a warrior,
and a poet,
and refuses to recycle?
hmmmm.
well,
how about starting a trash fire?
sure.
ha.
c'mon.
i burn cardboard, neighbors.
take it easy:

see?
high and bright.
and warm.
and smoky.
and so nice.
but,
what about a real, sexy, pagoda-stacked 13% moisture oaken log fire?
well,
yeah, man
i do that too.
you can't have too much fire,
unless you're standing in the middle of a lake of it-
in which case you're probably in hell,
and i'm pretty much positive nobody ends up there by being any good.
ha.
check the last day of summertime fuego-furioso-freshness-type teleport:

........orderly.
ANYway,
the last few days have had a few fires for my face.
a blaze of glory, a last hurrah,
a swan song,
the glow of converted energy,
light, heat, smoke, and ash-
mmhmmm.
i like fire.
crabtree, on the other hand?
not so much:

he HATES it.
he won't stay still at all,
and he doesn't give any sh!ts about the woodsly goodness's new england charm.
not one bit.
in fact,
this is more like what really happens as i try to enjoy myself for ten seconds:

a constant bye-bye runaway.
*
he's got his style, and i've got mine-
both of them are hard, and neither of them is compatible.
that's how it works.
...or doesn't.
these small glimpses of comfort, though.
the stolen moments when the fire is roaring,
the night is illuminated,
and the shadows cast stories across the leaves and the lawn.
that's the stuff i live for.
yeah,
i make food that i think is good,
and yeah,
i make art that i hope doesn't suck balls,
but really,
what i can make the best is a fire.
that's real.
steadily, readily, unapologetically burning bridges since back in the day
has given me SO much practice,
and i'd like to think i'm kind of an expert at this point.
ha!
we all have our thing, y'know?
heck,
i guess i've actually got a few things.
and right now,
it's ALL really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, September 20

sconely.

i made scones.
they were good.
i ate many.
boom.
that's the synopsis.
i'll be elaborating,
but now you know what the power points are.
that having been said-
dudes,
the SCONES!!!
yeah.
scones.
tasty breakfast jauns that deliver the dope dividends directly to my bellyhole.
for real-
i never get tired of those terrific triangles.
nope.
not one bit.
in fact,
i sort of always wish there were maybe one or two MORE.
this batch was fast and dirty,
headed into the hot oven as it heated up for a whole other style of baking.
uh-huh.
i had bread to bake as well,
but the respective temperatures are linear,
and i allowed myself the luxury of taking a slight detour to the scone zone
before i started loafing around.
and i'm SO glad i did, too.
really.
what would a rainy monday morning have been without scones??
basically,
it would've been just that......awwww.
so,
i took my time, of which there is precious little,
and i cut in the fats,
and i folded in the wets,
and i grated the greatest zest of lemon i've ever had had.....
and then i folded,
and turned,
and folded, and turned,
over and over and over and over etc etc and so forth and so on-
what do we get when we get like that?
we get it poppin' in the breakfast nook, nerds.
duh.
don't be dumb.
instead,
maybe you should check the teleport:

WORD!!
i got that new new.
i did.
giant chocolate chunks.
vegan hottness, in broken blocks of brown beauty,
and available right at the regular grocery store.
how could i not?
exactly, man.
what else is going on in there?
this:
-
3 1/2 cups a.p. flour (i went molto regular this time)
1/2 cup tapioca
1.5 sticks vegan butts
4T creamchee'
1 handful sugar
1.5 tsp baking kapowder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
-all that gets creamed together nicey nice,
and then we gotta add:
1/2 cup vegan yogurt
1 cup non-dairy milk
2 T lemon juice
1 small lemon's zest
allllll the choco chips
2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp lemon extract
-
that's when you fold and turn until the dough is firm.
cut that firm F*er in half;
and press each half into a 1" high circle.
the, y'gotta cut each flattened half into 6ths, pie-style,
and sprankle each one with big sugar crystals.
that's the rules,
and the rules are dope when it comes to making scones worth a sh!t.
you really want the hottness?
well, then freeze 'em for at least five minutes,
or for even longer if you'd like-
to let the gluten and the fat take it easy for a little bit,
then give 'em 20 minutes or so in a 400F degree oven.
.....
once these babies were ready,
i drizz'd all over their tops with deep dark chocolate ganache.
mmhmmm.
choco-lemon quickness was what i was after,
and i accomplished what i sought for.
lucky.
*
if you don't like scones,
you ain't about this vegan superfresh life.
hey man,
that's your choice.
i'm just sayin'-
scones may be the deciding vote between whether you're a worthy warrior poet,
or a weak-sauce waterbaby.
you know what side i'm taking.
***********
guys.
i feel the building pressure to make more art.
mmmm.
that's a thing.
even if it means NEVER sleeping.
i think i have to,
and it doesn't do me, or you, or anyone else we know any good
to just poop back and forth instead of getting off the pot
and putting the doo-doo to the paper, and making something worth a sh!t.
y'feel me?
what the heck am i waiting for?
that's what i woke up asking myself.
and the answer is?
i DONT KNOW.
ugh.
maybe today will be different.
maybe not.
what i can say for sure is:
it's all really happening,
and there should be much much much more of it before my eyes close every day.
that's the focus,
and that's no joke;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 19

tattoos.

dudes,
i do a lot of tattoos.
that's the good and bad thing about being versatile and a capitalist:
there's always work to do,
and it's just so flippin' hard NOT to pursue it.
...and that comes a the expense of free time;
although it should be only ever called spare time,
since each and every precious second is expensive.
i'm spending my time to make money,
and that's categorically the opposite of a wise investment.
nope.
i'm serious.
that's real.
because,
if the way you spend your money
doesn't positively affect the way you spend your time?
well, then you're misspending BOTH.
...and that's not cool, neighbors.
so...
what do we do about that?
i'm not so sure i'm all that far off of the mark when i say that
i've been burning up my reserves and resolve,
in a pre-collapse peak-oil-type blind-spot paradise-
circling in overlapping concentric story arcs
and overactive hard-working holding patterns
fraught with frenetic and frantic fury on the short term stage of What Is,
without holding any hope towards an improved longview
regarding the continued productive purposeful legacy of
spirit and memory for some time now.
confused?
boooooooo.
ok.
here's the much shorter version:
i'm tired of always working, while time decays and degrades all of life's joys,
so when i finally take a second to look around,
all i see are the ill-willed aftereffects of a half-emptied hourglass.
NOW you get it, right?
what will i do about it?
dudes,
that's just the thing-
i'm so F*ing busy, it'll be a long march of minutes before i can catch my breath.
yeah,
i know,
i bake a lot.
at 5 a.m., though,
and with crabtree trying to imbed himself up my A*-hole,
like an attention-sucking suppository,
well before anybody else is up and at 'em in these here parts.
guys,
i'm not even getting all that extravagant at dinnertime.
the absence of light is darkening the doorways that lead to those few small victories.
yikes.
*
so,
i'm sitting in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
baking scones and bread,
while the woodsly goodness bathes the rain.
i do a lot of tattoos.
that's real.
i DON'T do a lot of cool ones.
i've got one good one every day, at least, for the rest of the week.
it comes at a cost, but it also pays for itself.
i need a new exchange rate.
hard currency;
theoretical futures;
gold bouillon;
silver ingots;
sands of time;
heck,
maybe even social currency....
means and values, more and more and more.
too much is the right amount,
but in the inverse of the universe that's collapsing around me.
exchanges.
that's what i'm seeking;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, September 18

roll with the punches.

i stay pretty steady on my grind, guys.
that's the truth.
i'm always working,
and working,
and also working,
but,
in between, i'm also fitting in a little MORE work,
and then maybe making something to eat.
.....it's not that i work HARD,
at least not in terms of physical labor.
far from it.
it's that the performance aspects,
both in tactful, tactical, practical. tactile application of my professional services
and delivery of information/distraction/dissemination of ideas
in a conversational/coconspiratorial fashion,
place undue demands on my constitution.
dudes,
i'm trying to fit in walk-ins between and around appointments...
i'm squeezing every last minute of pre-work puppy walking out of every single morning,
because i've got the big guilt about his incarceration all damned day, six days a week.
i'm racing home late, on the regular, to a dark sky and a demanding dog,
and the energy of a well-rested animal doesn't go all that great
with a dude who hasn't slept well in a dog's age.
and despite all of that.
and specifically to counteract the quick dinnertime noodles and stuff
on which i've been subsisting for many days in a row-
which has me wallowing in a deepening dearth of good photographic opportunities,
i've STILL been using my wide-awakeful woke-A* self-motivated morning times
to continually dominate the morning apple game like a sunovab!tchin' champion.
rules is rules, man.
y'feel me?
being pushed and pulled by time and circumstance is no reason to forgo
some sort of positive effort in the kitchen.
neighbors,
if i can't sexify that food up in style at 6 p.m.?
you'd best believe i'm gonna sexify the sh!t outta 6 A.M..
word up.
check the swirls-of-cinnamon-type teleport:


c'mon!
i mean it,
like,
for real, though- C'MON!
apple-cinnamon rolls?!?!?
yeah, duders.
that's how it's done.
would you like to doo-doo that freaky sh!t your own self?
you would?
good.
then do this-
.
3 cups a.p. flour
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 T fast-as-F*acting yeast
2 tsp flaxmeal
a dash of cinnamon
1 tsp wheat gluten (definitely optional)
1 cup non-dairy milk, warmed to 100F degrees,
with
1 tsp vanilla,
and 1/4 cup melted vegan butterish in there, too.
mix it,
knead it,
and let it rise for 11 minutes,
all while your oven is preheating to 375F.
uh-huh.
i chopped 2 LARGE apples up, into small but chunky blops,
and stewed them with 4 T brown sugar,
1 tsp vanilla
3 T maple syrup
cinnamon, ginger, and allspice.
until coated and softened just a bit.
let it cool enough that it won't melt all the other other filling you'll be adding in as well.
like,
1/2 cup brown sugar
5 T vegan butts
cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and vanilla,
creamed until super-smooth and soft,
then spread out on the dough.
wait.
what?
well, y'gotta roll it out into a rectangle, obvi,
on a floured surface, with a floured rollin' pin, so you don't eff it up.
first the sugar stuff, then the apple stuff, then a tight roll and tuck,
so that the seam is on the bottom.
it's a good idea at this point to refrigerate it for a bit, if you've got the time,
as the insides are gonna wanna ruin the day with warmth and wetness.
a little solidification will certainly save the day if it's going downhill too quickly.
i cut mine into 1/8ths. why?
because it was bulking like crazy, and getting out of hand.
also,
i baked them in a rectangle pan,
on parchment,
which helped a whole bunch.
they got about 30 minutes of oven love,
and they came out so sexxxy lookin', and smellin',
and all that bubbly apple filling had gotten good and gooey,
caramel-style,
and the overflow got all kinds of sticky on those buns, hun.
mmmmmmmmmmm.
when they cooled,
you KNOW i hit 'em with that cinnamaple icing.
that's the stuff.
man-oh-MANdatory hottness is how i get it poppin' when i pop off in the morning.
too much is the right amount, guys.
i believe that from the bottom of my bottom-most rock-bottom-hittin' heart.
*
there are no free minutes anymore.
there are only expensive seconds to spend on expensive sh!t.
the price tag is high,
but i'll fit it in the budget,
and none of the good reasons to sleep will be able to budge it,
everything costs something,
and i'm spending my most valuable currency-
time.
it's all really happening,
every minute is charged by the concentric clockwise spiral of a tightening gyre-
the coils of time are winding themselves up,
and the tension is palpable.
the air is electric,
and the feeling is one of pure lightning-striking viking berserker fury.
i s'pose we'll just have to wait and see how today goes, bros;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, September 17

CIDER house rules.

broskis,
i used cider IN the cake.
y'know?
like,
instead of a different liquid.
yeah.
you got it.
i made a cider cake.
wanna see?
check the slices-and-sauces-type teleport:

C'MON, neighbors!!
there's something about pectin that makes a cake especially moist.
i mean,
when used in conjunction with a portion of tapioca,
a.k.a. puddin'-in-the-mix.
wait.
ok.
you're right.
i'll slow down.
i love baking.
we know this already.
i especially love to improvise.
that's a whole other well known fact.
but,
in addition to my love of improvised baking-
that intuitive meditative in-the-moment path of preparation and productivity-
i ALSO love to eat cake,
especially seasonally-appropriate site-specific slices of some
supremely septembery spiced apple ingredient jauns.
that's no joke.
you want this cake.
i know it.
here's what i think i did-
.
-1 stick of vegan butts
-and roughly 1 cup of sugar-
i used the remnants of three separate kinds,
but i doubt that it would matter much if you used just one.
-2 tsp vanilla
-1/2 tsp salt
creamed together in a stand mixer,
plus:
-1/2 cup unsweetened non-dairy yogurt (i used coconut for the record)
-2 1/2 cups of flour
-1/3 cup tapioca
-baking kapow and soda in individual tspfulls.
1 cup apple cider
lots of cinnamon, some ginger, a little mace, a pinch of nutmeg.
whisked until fluffyish,
and placed in a greased springform pan,
to bake at 360ish for 45ish minutes.
it was waaaay wetter at first, but it stayed waaaaaaaay moister when it was finished.
yum yum yum.
the apples on top were cooked a bit, to soften them.
that's three apples' worth of slices, with cinnamon, vanilla, and brown sugar,
plus a squeeze of lemon to keep 'em nice.
friends,
that sh!t right there is THE TRUTH.
i didn't even have to frost it.
it's too damned good all on it's own.
*
from out of nowhere,
i'm suddenly, totally, inexplicably perpetually unready.
yuck.
that's a tough way to be.
it seems like every single day,
i'm running late-
which happens to be especially weird
since prior to now,
i've taken great pride in always being at least 10 minutes early.
now, in addition to never sleeping,
i'm also lagging. sagging, and dragging my feet,
while still doing my damnedest to give the folks i'm interacting with
the best darn experience i can summon from the spirit and memory
of worthy warrior poetry.
it's tough, and it's tiring, and it's a ton of pressure (self-imposed)
to produce positive results against a tsunami tidal wall of opposing force.
ugh.
i don't know when this started happening, exactly-
actually,
i have got a pretty good guess-
but,
this is What Is, and it's all really happening.
my life, from now on, may be a bit behind schedule.
at least,
until i rebuild my immunity to the iocane inanity
of every day's efforts to end me once and for all.
yikes.
it's a fight to the finish,
right up until i finally fall asleep for a few seconds each night-
and weirdly,
i want to be in first place for the big finale every time.
it's all really happening, kids.
that's the WHOLE point.
all the cider (house) cake rules (is rules) on earth
can't save the day from ending;
and every one of those little deaths is a step or two further away
from tightness and brightness and bearable lightness than the last;
never quiet, never soft.....