buenos.

buenos rancheros?
yeah.
because huevos are F*ing gross.
for serious.
i'm on that scrambled TOFU jauns, tho,
like a hard-boiled warrior of kitchen witchcraft.
huh?
oh, yes, indeed, neighbors...
that's a thing.
check the teleport:

comida mas delicoso?
si.
i mean,
if it looks molto messy,
it's gotta be super good inside your mouth.
after all-
expert is as expert does,
so,
i had to bring a little activation to the dinner table.
super-firm sprouted tofu, kids.
that's the trick.
it's even better than extra firm,
with the crumbly hardness for your face,
and it's got that nutrient rich density, too...
scrambled with g.p.o.p. and salt and pepper and nootch,
and turmeric and paprika, to make sure it's flippin' tasty.
and that goes on top of a trio of pan-fried corn tortillas,
all butterishy, and browned a baby bit for a little crunchy crunch-
and what goes on top of THAT?
obviously, more stuff.
rules is rules, y'know?
pinto beans with onions and garlic and cilantro and jalapeno?
yuuuuuuup!
and homemade ranchero sauce for the victorious dinner celebration.
yeah.
ranchero is the big business over here.
diced tomatoes,
diced fire-roasted green chiles, half a jalapeno, diced;
natural twenties all day over here with all this dicing, y'heard?
(c'mon.)
garlic and more garlic, minced white onion, cilantro, parsley,
fresh oregano, smoked paprika, cayenne, cumin,
ground mustard, g.p.o.p., black peps, one tiny sweet red pepper,
and a splash of liquid smoke to make sure it has that campfire twang to it.
uh-huh.
i doo-doo that rancher's-style freaky sh!t.
no doubt.
and yeah,
i hit it up with a splashy flashy scallion and cilantro garnish.
obvi.
i'm not some weak-sauce waterbaby making terrible treats/
don't be dumb.
and anyway,
that's what's happening when i'm not drawing.
i'm making magic happen all up in my mouth.
yeah.
***********
it's back to being unseasonably barbaric in the arctic blasting
tundra thunderdome zone up here in the woodsly goodness.
it's so cold,
i don't even remember what warmth feels like,
and i've got an incredible memory.
sitting next to the blazing red-hot cast iron stove,
and half of me is still frozen?
that's dumb cold.
and that's indoors,
only half a body's width away from actual flames.
it's a hard style we rep up here these days,
but it's all that there is,
and it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....