that's that black-strapped syrup,
straight from the rummy gummy sap-slap
drips and dribbles of pure uncut sugarcane sauce.
...yeah!
it's so thick and sticky,
but,
once i heated it up, and mixed it with vanilla soymilk,
and added all kinds of spices and everything nices,
it made for the perfect dark brownified freshness for my face.
you can't have the cakey bread without that gooey 'lasses.
that's a thing.
no, really.
hey, neighbors,
why don'tcha just check the teleport:
what's up with miniature loaves of demerara-dusted ginger-style bread??!
oh, y'know,
with all the ginger, and then some;
and all the cinnamon you'd expect;
and some of the nutmeg;
and enough cloves to make sure it has that kick-A* activation
and aromatic XI-mas magical scent wafting and floating throughout
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress like ethereal ghosts of holiday cheer.
if jacob marley had smelled like this,
he wouldn't have been able to scare a F*ing thing out of my man ebenezer.
word.
those raw sugar sprankles made sure it was even sweeter, too.
that's expert, huh?
yeah. i know.
i get busy a little itty-bitty teeny-weeny tiny baby bit.
huh?
no, i don't even want to.
but i have to.
it can't be avoided, actually.
i am compelled by the overwhelming infinite nature of my true self.
i'm a bakery barbarian;
a gastonomical glutton of gilded glutens;
a from-scratch fabricator of fancy unnecessaries.
duders,
i am what i am.
i guess that's the most i could really hope for?
tell you what-
i'll stop hoping,
and just keep the ovens hot.
this way,
What Is is all there is.
really real life unfolds in front of us, y'all.
and there are gonna be plenty of breadcrumb trails to lose
if i have anything to say about it;
never quiet, never soft.....
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