Saturday, May 31

may nots.

and the month of may is over and out, now, too.
it all goes by way too fast.
another 'nother page on the calendar,
down to it's last gasps for breath-
the clock is ticking down towards june at a breakneck pace.
the ticks and the tocks are building momentum, it seems,
and this day is determined to drag on and drag race simultaneously.
is it currently cold and rainy?
of course it is.
nobody leaves with the title, neighbors.
you already knew that.
time's up, again,
and up and at 'em, too.
there's some small consolation in all the may flowers blooming
all over the gardens in the ground and in containers an' that.
and ever more consoling to my attentuated temporal sensibilities?
a new plant baby for my face!
i got a present from my sweet lady, and it has petals.
amber hooked it up during a short-and-sweet pop-over last night.
seems she's in high demand for her time and her company,
but she still made time to come by and span a moment or two....
and she brought a new amber-colored orchid with her.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a treasure hoard of botanical diversity.
that's a thing.
and it is now also +1 on the variety of flowers beautifying it's beat-up boards.
june starts on a sunday?!?!
y'know what that means?
that's correct!
any month that starts on a sunday also kicks off with something special.
how special?
it's special to me and my peoples, even if y'all couldn't care less.
when day numero uno starts on the far left top corner of the calendar,
it kicks off seven full days of dopeness...... between slices of bread.
get it?
yeah, you got it.
tomorrow marks the start of sandwich week.
because sandwiches are expert,
and so are we.
get ready, guys.
it's the way it works around here.
rules is rules,
and weeks is weeks.
this time is sandwich time.
until next time;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, May 30

you rock, rock.

this rock just sits,
and is.
and sometimes,
that's what we need.
when it came time to rock yesterday,
me and my buddy beau had it going on.
we took his semi-injured rockmobile,
which actually performed admirably and acquitted itself with full honors,
as we climbed through the triumphant trails of the white mountains,
on recently reopened roads,
helping ourselves, discreetly,
to the best and the biggest and the burliest granite slabs
and slate spikes and limestone lintels.
uh huh.
seven sisters of earthly hard hearted hottness.
check the teleport:
word up.
y'know what my garden already has several literal tons of?
it needs more, right?
of course it does!
two-and-a-half footers are just right for manhandling alone,
and even better suited for two-man huckin' into the back of a truck.
we did what we set out to do,
and there are still plenty of roads to rock with rocks.
i'm glad i had the help,
and i'm glad we ate indian food first, too.
that's largely unrelated,
but i AM glad about it anyway.
india brown blops powered our pectorals, probably.
i mean,
it's pretty likely we did a better job because we had all the nutrients in us.
 and those rocks are proof we were successful, either way.
i can't wait to stand 'em up in the garden,
and let them reach towards the trees lookin' all power-charged druidic an' that.
we create because we have to,
we destroy because we want to,
and either way,
it's all what's really happening.
i'm glad about that;
never quiet, never soft.....

sittin' around.

this is supposed to be a no-recipe treats brag.
neighbors, i hate to disappoint y'all,
but i took 'er easy the last few days whilst recovering from whatever
minor plague infiltrated my cells and undermined my well-being for a week.
no mexican monday,
no world cuisine wednesday,
just aches and sweat and sleep and coughing and overall crappiness.
womp womp.
it isn't always the big action and activated glamour of a burly barbarian baker
brutalizing his batter and bullying his oven to bake harder and faster and louder.
it ALMOST always is,
but even i get a little beat up by the ins and outs of a convoluted and polluted
path through the days and nights up here.
oh, you do so know-
hard styles and hard times,
slow work days and too-busy work days back to back to back to back.
it's grown-up responsible adulthood,
and it's just a real pain in the A*.
especially when you're feeling really sh!tty.
once i was mostly better,
i headed south towards the ocean,
and i stuffed my face in portland,
and after that, i even traveled up and down my favorite secret road a few times,
and heck,
i even finished off a few stories i'd been reading,
(keep this one close, kids)
i did a few drawings, for no reason other than i wanted to.
so weird.
maybe the bitter bacteria that bested me for a minute
really just made me stronger and more motivated overall?
i think so.
i've been doing a lot more than i was,
and i'm feeling better about it.
oh, yeah-
and i totally did make a treat.
check the teleport:
toasted coconut chocolate creme pie,
on a toasted-coconut-laced graham crackery crust,
with thick-thick-thiiiick coconut frosting swirls,
and toasted coconut sprankles on top.
that's a heavy load.
and it's so deep, dark, rich, thick, wet, cold and wonderful, too.
too much is the right amount,
and a whole helluva lot of one ingredient makes sure you know it's true.
that's the way we do it.
warrior poets aren't fistfighting F*tards (although we can be...).
we mostly make sure we're winning the battle between good and good enough,
and all the smaller conflicts between nature and infinite nature,
nurture and free will,
and that we always choose the wrench, because without a challenge,
it's not actually ever really considered a victory.
the harder way, with a side of easy pie,
is what's up.
this is the way it all unfolds these days;
never quiet, never soft.....

maybe i don't get it?

the woodsly goodness doesn't care.
the mountains and the rivers and the trees an' that
are completely indifferent to the availability of internet access,
or even phone service.
it's not a joke.
the northern natural world will F* up a signal
quicker than hurry-up, if you feel me.
big wet heavy leaves and bright green baby branches,
and clouds and fog and unseasonably coooold temperature (of course),
all combine to create pockets of mini maelstrom mayhem
that snaps lines and blocks signals and shut us out.
nature wins at keeping us apart.
that's where i've been the past few days, neighbors-
right here,
blacked out from the outside world,
but wide awake and alert,
reading and waiting for the big next steps.
and trying to figure out what the big deal is about french toast.
its supposed to be like flat cinnamon waffles?
bad pancakes for folks only slightly too lazy to make pancakes?
toast, except wet, and not toasted?
maybe i turned dumb,
or maybe, just barely maybe, it's french toast that's the dumb one.
i made it anyway.
i mean,
i kind of needed to see what the fuss was all about.
and i'll be honest, friends-
i ate it up, and i chowed it down, and i still don't get it.
check the day-one-type teleport:
soymilk, flax seeds, tapioca flour, maple syrup, cinnamon, vanilla, nootch,
nutmeg, ginger, and earth balanced butterish pats for pan-frying.
i doo-doo that.
i tried out some whipped cream on there, too.
the hot toasty toast slices melted it down in record time.
heavy, batter covered baggy batches of soggy toast are expert?
i guess so.
after all,
i did it again the next day.
check the day-two-type teleport:
this time,
there was no whipped cream.
there was a reconditioned no-egg dredge sauce, with much-improved proportions.
that made this batch a damned sight better,
even though the first take was actually pretty authentic tasting to begin with...
and these jauns had confectioners sugar snowfall on top,
albeit all soaked-through with real maple magic by the time the camera snapped.
old sad bread gets toasted and turns out fine anyway, usually.
at least,
the fancy expensive crackery sourdough business i'm used to.
but maybe,
if you're reppin' poor person bread,
you gotta make scrambled waffle eggs out of it?
i just don't get it.
but i'll eat it again now that i know what to do to make it do what i want it to.
french toast is way more of a process than just regular toast.
i guess that's what i like about it most;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, May 26

breaking it.

holy crap, friends!
i don't know if i've ever sweat as much as i did last night
at any time ever before in my whole entire actual human life!
after being locked up in the thrall and throes of a squall of squalor,
a storm of poor conditions and poorer spirits,
and the broken bone-aching weary bleary-eyed blunt-force battle against
hot flashes and hot temperatures and cold chills from too-high of fevers-
i sweat so much i soaked through five F*ing blankets,
and all the sheets and shirts and shorts and socks too.
and sure, neighbors,
i'd had a high fever for more than a couple days,
i'm not a tiny diapery doo-doo baby,
and i still went to work, and i still probably spread the flu-like fire
into every open pathogen pathway i picture-punctured into all those people.
sharing is caring.
and i care....
...a LOT.
the thing of it is-
i figured i'd need to see about some sort of expert medical opinion
regarding all this light-headed arthritic old and busted diseasy jauns-
since the unsolicited advice of all the moms i met was that a four day fever
is definitely really bad for you.
i shed a few pounds;
i exercised my abdomen accidentally with gut-clenching spasms;
i watched a whole sh!tload of shows and series without the guilt of wasting time.
it wasn't ALL bad for me, i guess.
i was worried, though,
after not sleeping,
and not really being all-the-way-aware of the world, and the work, and the week,
as my weakened perceptions gave way to a hazy fugue of ague and sleep.
the illusion of sleep, and the steady thrum of superheated body fire keeping me up
whenever the shakes weren't holding it down.
but not anymore!
a gallon of sick sweaty syrup shed off of my body,
and i'm right as rain
albeit a little shaky.
i'm ready for what's next,
because losing ground isn't any good unless you're backing up for a running start
and the momentum is applied to a flying leap.
i'd probably do well to start stretching first;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, May 24

dumps on my face...

i'm SO F*ing sick,
it almost seems sort of funny to me.
i mean it.
for years and years i thought i was permanently immune
to whatever infectious and contagious up-here colds and flus were circulating.
i'd supercharged my body with culture and education and elitism,
and it was simply to good for these low-rent sicknesses to infiltrate.
that seems to have worn off and eroded all the safeguards of a
savage stormswept gypsy vegan healing factor.
what i mean is-
i'm sicker than ever, more often than i'd like to admit.
old and busted has become the order of the day, every day.
i think you're supposed to starve a fever.
i didn't.
check the teleport:
dumps on my face.
i figured i'd let food be my medicine.
and about an hour later,
while i shivered so hard i couldn't move my sore joints at all?
i let medicine be my medicine.
it didn't help.
if it did,
i would've been totally decommissioned without it.
three hours of sleep,
and a head so sore, even my teeth hurt.
i guess i'm doing it wrong.
i'm bundled up and still cold.
so busted.
i'm beat up,
soaked through with sweat,
sore in spots i never thought about,
tired like i worked harder than ever, instead of just not sleeping,
and i'm STILL going to work today.
a grand don't come for free, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, May 23

i like pistachio, too.

spoiler alert!
pistachio is just almond with green in it!!!
for real.
pistachio flavor is green+almond+nuts=trickery.
so, now you know.
and therefore,
you can easily figure out that when i say i like pistachio,
i actually like when i add green to almond,
and then put some actual pistachio nuts up in it, for marginal authenticity...
my innocence is lost, kids,
i found out that cake is still pretty expert even when it's lying.
go ahead and check the somewhat-green-type teleport:
pistachio cake.
it tastes like it's supposed to, anyway,
and it's got three layers of nutty
with key lime frosting.
now that's genuine expert sh!t.
i mean it.
zest and juice and sugar an' that.
it's the perfect summery taste for my face,
and it goes along perfectly as a partner for the pistachio jauns.
and with some of those roasted salty pistachios on top, too?
salty, sweet, nutty, tart...and all at once.
i couldn't stop eating them.
that's no joke.
y'know those fevers where your whole body locks up with painful chills?
your exhalations are a thousand degrees of superfiery air,
and you're sweating all over the place,
but you're still F*ing freezing harder than ever,
even under all the winter-style covers?
i am enjoying some of that right now.
in fact,
it's four a.m. and i'm wondering what the heck sleep is waiting for....
hard styles and long nights and hard times and everything that makes me feel tired.
i guess i needed to be sick?
who doesn't love a weak and enfeebled sodden-browed shaker?
this year has been a real bastard so far,
and it looks like there's plenty more where that came from.
tea and toast and more tea for me, kids.
tonight is the night,
or rather,
this morning is here far too soon.
maybe i'll burn up, shiver myself to shrapnel, or melt away.
i'm ready for whatever,
i just wish it'd get on with it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, May 22

world cuisine wednesdays!!

where did we go?
this time,
we went to japan.
yeah, neighbors,
the wizardry was certainly in full effect last night.
that's a thing.
i was up way early anyway,
so i got started at the beginning of the day,
and in turns throughout the remainder,
i brought a little bit of sunshower-powered thunder down.
i mean it.
i was frosting cupcakes, chopping nuts,
dicing onions, slicing cakes, julienne-ing all kinds of stuff,
and i STILL made time for mowing lawns,
planting pot after pot of perennials,
exercising my tired old arms and legs,
a trip to the superdupermarket,
a little gadget shopping,
and a righteous car-ride, complete with stoic stinkstaff,
(umm, that's a cigar) up my most favorite road in the county.
and i also made and seasoned the right kind of rice for the job;
and i boiled up a batch of seitan steaks, scratchmade by hand;
and i had my mise en place on point, too, kids.
no jokes.
i had my japan game turned up to eleven.
check the ichi-ban-type teleport:
that's a lot of sexiness in one place, huh?
it sure is.
what is it all?
i'll tell you:
*gyoza steamed dumplings!
in the morning,
i minced up some onion and carrot and celery and tofu
and garlic and garlic and garlic and bean sprouts and sesame seeds,
and i sauteed them in tamari and ricewine vinegar and liquid smoke,
and ginger and ground mustard and i added in a bit of vegan roast,
and some daikon radish and some shredded spinach,
and lots of black pepper, and a splash of ho' sauce.
uh huh.
all that.
just so i could hide it all inside of those gyoza.
dumpling filling is complicated, and complicated is expert.
that's a thing.
chili-garlic-toasted-sesame-seed-sriracha-wasabi dipping sauce,
AND ginger-soy-scallion dipping sauce both in little cute spoons?
i'm not lazy.
i blend my own because i know what i like,
and nobody makes it in a jar.
no jokes.
and what else?
*miso soup with baked tofu!
cornstarched after eing lightly pressed is the new hottness, friends.
i mean it.
baked tofu gets a crispy skin to it when you doo-doo that method.
it's dope.
white miso paste, and leafy greens, and a sh!tload of scallions,
with a last minute nori infusion,
because a strong dead-oceany fishyishy taste is NOT invited-
and those crispy coated firm squares of superfirm-to-begin-with tofu, too.
miso soup has those fermented samurai nutrients, an' that...
so i suppose that was enough of a reason to make it.
the big plate had the big action on it:
*panko-breaded sesame-oil seitan medallions!
that's right.
i made my wheat-meat longer and thinner (that's what she said?)
so that the twice-as-big broth boiled results wouldn't overwhelm the plate.
maybe, but just a little tiny bit.
pressed into a plateful of those panko bits,
and seared in toasted sesame oil until browned up.
that's what's up.
there was peanutty satay dipping sauce,
with ground peanuts and garlic and vinegar and ginger and tamari,
thinned out and then boiled thick again....
and there was plum-paste-vinegar sauce too.
so actually, it was prunes, because they're actually still plums.
and sugar, and vinegar, and soy, and ginger-
and honestly, even though it was darker than dark in color,
it was sooooo flippin' good.
that's two more sauces.
alternated between bites of those brown crunchy-skinned circles was
the way to do it
yeah, guys.
dinnertime is where we get it going on harder than anywhere else.
*vegetable sushi! 
c'mon, c'mon!!
you know that's a nice touch.
i mean,
i had the mat,
i got the seaweed sheets,
and i sushi-vinegar spritzed the rice.
it had to happen.
cucumber, carrot, braised asparagus, and pea shoots.
rolled up and sliced up and served up
that's so much food at once.
and that's how you know we did what we were supposed to.
there was a strawberry vanilla soymilk vanilla soy-yogurt crushed ice smoothie, too.
just to really destroy our stomachs with the consequences of shark gluttony.
and we ate cupcakes and cakes and tarts for dessert.
too much is the right amount,
and too much of too much is the way we decided to span time.
dinner with my peoples is a good thing,
and there's no such thing as too much of a good thing.
check your premise, and you'll know it's true.
i'm grateful for dinner companions,
i'm grateful for the bounty of plentiful vegan eats in my kitchen,
and i'm grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

plain vanilla.

single-serving bakery magic,
in fluted patterned paper pockets.
i think almost everyone likes cupcakes.
i mean,
unless you're an A*-hole,
you aren't hard-hearted towards cute individual frosted treats.
jeez, i'm just sayin'.
don't be so grumpy about non-wedge slices of the same baked batter.
it's gonna be okay.
cupcakes, though.
i think that my coworker wayne was onto something.
he said that a superfancy elaborate triple frosted fruit-infused sparkle-magic
masterpiece of beautiful sugar crumbs and confections
is TOO pretty not to taste good.
but a plain vanilla cupcake,
as in:
no fruit injections, no chocolate shavings, no additional extraneous activators.
that has to have the flavor of the future to stand on it's own.
i mean,
vanilla is some basic entry-level jauns for sure.
i took his opinion into consideration,
and then i held onto only the essence of his idea.
i mean,
i don't know if i can hang out with on-purpose demotions.
get it?
going backwards is only allowed in emotional instances.
that's berserker barbarian overreaction at it's most fundamental.
treats, however, are an additive art.
you get more expert as you develop more skills,
and you take it all to eleven, not down to five.
y'feel me?
i hope so.
check the my-way-is-the-only-way-type teleport:
triple vanilla fancies for your F*ing face!
vanilla pastry-creme-filled vanilla frosted vanilla cupcakes.
a vanilla valhalla?
i did freak 'em off with a little ponyboy/hamden warrior colorway style.
robert frost-ing green and stay-gold swirls?
yeah, you like it.
it's still just vanilla betterthanevercreme smoothness,
but with that unnecessary extra added in.
i'm like that.
spring-themed confetti sprankle jammies are what's up.
jammies, i said.
not jimmies.
don't be disrespectful.
i guess we'll never know if they are dope enough to excel solely
on the strength of the secret recipe, without any visual panache.....
unless you just eat one with your eyes closed!
that's it.
problem solved.
two dozen of 'em will be at the tattbomb studio today.
who's coming?
it's probably better that way.
i've got nothing good going on,
and only harder styles than usual, even,
unfolding all along the ley lines of spirit and memory.
maybe i'm accruing some sort of paid-in-advance penalty?
could be.
an offset-the-new-future-hottness-before-it-happens layaway?
if so,
i'll gladly keep bludgeoning my way through these interminable days
of drudgery and skullduggery and doo-doo buttery b!tchbaggery.
if it's just a savings account for brightbright brightness later on?
then i'm investing for better and better betterments with interest.
in the meantime,
i do know that i'm grinding away, every damned day.
the styles are hard,
the appointments are weak,
the respect is negligible,
and it's ALL really happening.
i'm sure it's all moving forward towards a climactic catalyst for change.
more disruptions,
more upheavals,
more work....
i'm gonna need more complicated cupcakes next time.
i'm sure of it.
more is the object,
but i might object to much more of all of this.
saturation is good,
oversaturation is better,
and supersaturation is best.
maximum density is approaching at maximum speed,
and really real life isn't bracing for impact;
never quiet, never soft.....


tarts are just such expert treats, neighbors.
i mean,
they're really just  pies, right?
except with a better name.
that's a thing.
sometimes what it's called is what makes it taste better.
no joke.
when i put brown sugar and butter in a pan and cooked the heck out of it,
with a splash of vanilla and a whole mess of bubbling trouble,
it became butterscotch-
when i added all the soymilk to make the pastry creme,
it technically became caramel.
check the teleport:
cookies, crushed up with oatmeal and coconut,
form the crumbly crust of this tasty piece of tarted uppity pie.
solid foundations, kids, are the way we begin all our endeavors.
shaky ground and uncertain styles aren't invited to the test kitchens
because here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
warrior poets aren't just prancing about it aprons baking muffins...
...we also swear a lot and stir pots and pots and pots of pastry creme, too.
awwwwwww, man!
but anyway,
when the food needs making,
we take a break from whatever else is going on,
and get really involved in the creative process.
after all,
if it doesn't turn out expert, i'll still have to eat it all.
rules is rules.
fitting punishment, though, isn't it, friends?
forcing down the less-elite bits, bite by bite,
as a reminder that taking it to eleven is the only level we tolerate up here.
mistakes are fine,
but making the same mistake twice is what stoopidheads do.
i know what i'm talking about.
there's cookie crust and butteryscotchy creme,
and then,
to make it fancy,
a scoople or two of little baby chocolate chip sprankles,
and a coconut-sugar caramel stripe pattern poppin' off too.
soymilk and a little flour activated that butterscotch-style jauns,
and made it the stretchiest, richest, roasted-sugar sexiness yet.
it's good.
and then,
because a sugar bomb is only so sweet-
there's sea salt sprankles on top of that!!
double sprankles because too much is the right amount.
believe it.
and without that savory seasoning to savor,
the flavor is only halfway developed.
sweets on sweets is great,
but without some bitterness,
it just isn't the true expression of my extended infinite nature.
intentional construction in my pastry situations, y'all.
i doo-doo that metaphoric allegory as a tart-that-isn't-tart-or-slutty-type sh!t.
i mowed some of my lawn yesterday.
some of it.
the rest has wildflowers springing up,
and i'm not the type to destroy some winning nature...
not when she shows up uninvited to help out,
instead of punishing us for whatever sleights she imagines.
i mean it,
after this past winter's perpetual omnipresent awfulness,
i'm letting flowers bloom wherever they arise.
that's no joke.
all the sunshine, all the blossoms, all the time.
if there's nature that isn't trying to ruin it,
i'm soaking as much of it up as i can.
less yardwork and more beauty?
if it's available, i want that every time;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, May 20

mexican monday siempre.

and we did it again.
mexican monday.
(it's a thing.)
and this time,
there was already homemade uber-lime guacamole,
courtesy of amber and her avocado activation.
and she cut up a batch of corn tortillas, too.
they'd had some extensive battle-damage and due to the structural
destruction of their circular shape,
they weren't going to make it to the taco party.
becoming chips was probably their destiny all along.
it ended up that way, so i sorta hope so.
i did one of those huge shopping trips that fill the cart to the brim.
i had to.
i was running low on four kinds of sugar.
that's real.
while i was there,
i scoopled up a bunch of bits and pieces for my monday night tradition, too.
i mean,
i popped a custom vegan roast in the oven waaay earlier in the a.m.,
and i had whole homemade tub of tofu-cashew-nootch chee' blended up
before breakfast ever got steeped and toasted, too.
and there was a plate of  pastry dough relaxing in the fridge as well.
prep work is important, neighbors.
it saves time when you've got your mise en place in F*ing full effect.
that's no joke.
why pastry dough?
because empanadas.
wordimus prime.
check the teleport:
a baby enchilada?
refried magic beans, giant-beanstalk-style;
and fat splats of fancy chee' filling;
and vegan roast strips;
and cilantro and scallions and some spinach for vitamins an' that.
gravy-soaked and steam-bath baked under even more chee'
and two kinds of sauces?
that's getting expert taken to eleven-
and that's just one item on that plate!
pastry crusted mini pies are so cute, kids.
i mean it.
empanadas are such little fancy mutha-F*ers.
diced vegan roast, with shallots and minced poblano peppers,
and so many spices all stirred in,
on a thin sheen of chee', with a few sprigs of fresh leafy treats strewn about,
folded over and fork-crease-sealed up,
before being baked alongside those enchiladas,
and then served with a custom red stove-top simmered empanada salsa,
for the ultimate eating experience.
diced garlic-infused tomatoes and white onion, pureed before stewing,
and scallions, and whole leaf cilantro, and two kinds of peppers,
plus black pepper, and salt, and lime.
totally yum4tum time in this kitchen while that was cookin'.
that guac' was hanging out, but getting decimated hard by my houseguests.
i scoopled that onto my plate to ensure i got some.
that's how good it was.
it almost didn't survive to the main course!
get a closer look, friends:
and yeah, whatever, no big deal,
but that's a big ol' mound of red beans and spanish rice over there too.
no big thing.
....except that's not some weak-A* box mix jauns.
it's customized long grain rice and broth, with smoky paprika,
and smoky sea salt, and liquid smoke, and chipotle ho' sauce,
in addition to all the everyday spanish-ricey stuffs stuffed in there-
just to make sure to make it ahumado all the way to the future.
i even want my simple sides to be a special treat.
you're okay with that, aren't you?
i mean,
i'm not some basic diaperbaby reppin' weak-sauce all day.
no way, jose.
i'm on that time-spanning kitchen-wizardry and professional participation action.
what's what?
a bowlful of orange-colored cashew crema, mexican style,
for overactivating the empanadas.
roasted cumin, and paprika, and turmeric, and black pepper,
and oregano, and cinnamon.
it tastes like pure mexico, kids.
i mean it.
and a dip or dos into it takes those half-pies to the moon and back.
we know the right ways to make the magic happen,
and we have the means to enact all the right spells for a spell or two.
time gets taken,
and time gets spent,
and time gets spanned,
and all of it is exactly what is supposed to happen.
that's expert.
now what?
i know, i know, i KNOW.
there are strawberry sodas hanging out over there too.
i figured you'd ask about 'em eventually.
check the teleport:
lemon-lime spritey spritzers,
and crushed-up fresh strawberries, with extra sweet lime,
and just a hint of vanilla make for some sparkling smooth fruity fizzmastery.
that's real.
i made these enchiladas smaller, and better,
so i could fit more of them in the pan than the last time,
and like them even better, too.
the way i figure it:
too much is the right amount...
so three pastels con salsa,
and one baked tube of megaton bean bombin',
plus beans and rice,
and chips and guacamole,
with a side of crema,
and a sip of soda is a sure-fire turbo-charged feast
fit for our shark-gluttonous faces to try to fit into our cavernous bellyholes.
get it?
we overdo it, or we don't do it.
that's the way that warrior poets practice self-indulgent sustenance.
if you aren't gettin' forever crazy with it,
you might as well give up.
box-mix b!tchbaggery is for jerks,
and that's the truth.
homemade hottness with hungry comrades-in-arms.
time is ours for the eating;
never quiet, never soft..... 

stay ugly, stay dope.

and when a client of mine said he wanted half my face,
and half robot skull face,
i didn't ask a single question.
jim has been getting tattooed at the studio since forever ago.
he's an old bikery guy from vermont,
and he's not effing around.
even though his wife thought he was just being crazy,
and his adult son was shaking his head in confusion,
i just took him at his word,
and took a sh!tty selfie,
and then shredded half of it off.
i'm not the chairman of the good-idea commission, neighbors.
i'm a street-shop tattbombin' disenfranchised
and disillusioned grind-date-maker,
and i doo-doo that zipzappin' crap-slappin' sh!t.
word up.
check the old-and-busted-and-bobotronic-type teleport:
'even with only half a head, robot-you has more hair than you do'.
that was actually said.
out loud.
by a bald(er) dude than me.
but somebody got some of my face forever.
isn't that flattering?
i mean
he wanted my face..... destroyed.
backhanded complimentary activation is always invited though.
and harder styles aren't likely to show up unannounced.
the thing of it is-
there ARE times when interesting things are afoot.
it isn't all treats and defeats.
there are brights and lights and delights and fights i'm winning-
it's ALL really happening,
good bad and ugly.
the quantities of each are where the real-life documentarianism skews
the reporting of what's up and what's going down.
good. bad. ugly.
like i said.
there's the least of the former, the most of the middle,
and the everpresent compulsory calamity of a big dumb faceful of the latter.
there are worse things out there.
you can be as ugly as sin just as long as you're dope.
that's a thing.
i'm doing what i can to put up the correct proportions,
and keep my stats balanced.
rules is rules, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....


it's the most important meal, they say.
i dunno about all that,
but i'm pretty sure i need some nutrients sometimes.
if i can let the batter get busy with some vegan sour cream,
and maybe a pinch or a punch or two of sugar,
and pan-fry a cake or three in some pseudo-butter,
and then amp it all up a bit more with real maple syrup,
and even a soywhip shot of swirled cream jauns,
maybe it IS important after all.
i wouldn't want to fight my way through another small skirmish
in this losing brushfire battle i call my day-to-day on an empty stomach.
would i?
no way.
check the stalwart-stack-type teleport:
thick ones, neighbors.
that's good for my face.
i like when the top and the bottom flipsides are just the littlest bit crispy,
and the inside has the steamy lofty soft fluffiness.
i love panniecakes, and that's just the way it is.
eating food is important.
i'm not even proselytizing about vegan nerdism.
it's important because we need to to do it.
and i want what i eat to be involved,
and semi-complicated for all it's simplicity,
and i want it to take time to prepare,
so that mindfulness and intention and focus are all in there, too.
i need my food to be incredibly favorful,
and good-lookin' and impressive,
and i want the presentation to be a key element when applicable.
i love eating food,
and i want what i rebuild my body out of to be what i'm rebuilding myself into.
y'know what i mean?
i am what i eat,
but only because it's intricate and excellent and expensive,
and it always has secret ingredients,
and approximations of what regular-A* duders are ingesting.
it's the undercover expertism of upgraded ingredients,
and the absence of doomsday death an' that.
that really makes it the most awesome part of my day.
i'm not doing it like everybody else,
but it still tastes better.
that's not even hubris, homies,
that's just a true story, told truly.
i rep a hard style,
making simulacrums of animal substances out of vegetables and minerals.
i'm an alchemist of mealtime transmutation, maybe?
maybe not.
i'm in love with food,
but i have to do it the way i do it.
the harder way is the only way.
i swear i'm enjoying my time in the kitchen.
i swear.
profanity makes it taste better.
that's a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, May 18

carry the load.

nature wins so hard over here!
gerber daisy bouquet!
baby peaches!!
ivy bomb!!!
there's just so much going on in every pot and planter in this place.
i mean it.
fresh growth is going off like foliage fireworks.
there are new roots shooting off of every sprig in here,
and there are buds and blossoms outside, too.
i can't help it, neighbors, i like it a lot.
a whole Folk Life & Liberty Fortress full of reaching new life.
it's expert,
and it's happening harder than ever.
i take a small dose of comfort from the fact
that at least something is branching out, anyway.
because i seem to have stalled in my own forward momentum.
and that's no joke.
not much gets a grumbling grudging gut response like getting behind
when ahead is the only place all your full head of steam is supposed to be headed.
all the drive,
all the ambition,
and a series of seriously sh!t-salad circumstances synced together can still
unravel, unwind, and undo all the headstrong headlong juggernautical navigation
built up by giving ground long enough to gain traction for a fresh new running start,
in less than one afternoon.
THAT'S a hard style, kids.
it's nothing new.
i've got this expansive manse full of flowers and powers and plants-
like a flowerpowerplant of positive energy,
even if that's waaay more happy-hippie-horsesh!tty than i'd ever all the way buy into.
uh huh.
the thing of it is,
this place is my recharge.
old, busted, and dope, just like me,
we're fostering new growth inside our framework of fraught F*holery.
real life unfolds, with plenty of pratfalls and pitstops,
and eventually,
it all pulls together to reveal a bigger picture.
not a bigger better beautiful picture, either.
just more of all of this.
that's all there is.
grinding away, day in and day out,
wondering where the plot twisted off of the charted paths,
and diverted into a hard-going mud-slinging swamp-dwelling slog.
the Fortress is my sanctuary,
the rest is an unfair fight;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, May 16

gimme pounds.

raspberry pound cake?
you guessed it!
yep...that's right.
you just won a free look at that freshness this friday morning.
check the sandwich-cake-type teleport:
raspberry pound cake miniloaf sandwiches,
because that's even better than just a slice or cup of cake.
a little sunshine needs to be activated,
even if it's just in the latent laid-back databank
of a whole couple of cupfuls of pulverized frozen raspberries.
they're full of it, these pounding cakes-
there's even a big blop of raspberry jam shoved in there,
to keep the raw sugar company while it got creamed.
y'know, with the earth balance butterishness.
i've been using soy yogurt as an egg replacement/wet binder,
and that's been a thing for a little minute now-
this battery bomb of baked greatness was no exception.
it makes 'em smoother, and the crumb lighter, and the flavor better.
the acidic action activates the baking podwer and soda, too.
i mean,
i also used lemon juice to moisten up what the frozen berry mash didn't.
it's surprising how the tartness of the razzies tempers the sugar.
they're not too sweet.
but they're so good.
creamchee' frosting filling, though?
that's expert.
with added freeze-dried powdered raspberries and another 'nother scoop
of seedless jammie dodgery, the magenta color gets verrry pronounced.
and it tastes more vibrant than it appears, even.
imagine that, neighbors-
a bright batch of sunny-sidedness,
during a week of forecast clouds and bursts of hard rain every damned day.
the thing of it is,
i don't USE recipes.
and even when i'm making something for the first time,
i may take a peek at proportions or oven temperatures,
and then add in the rest, filling in blanks with conjecture,
and adding in ingredients to accommodate texture.
it's ALL really happening,
live on the spot, with high hopes for hottness,
and a general disregard for failure.
but that doesn't make it simpler, creating and amending on the fly.
it's not until afterwards that i can munch up a little,
and jot the process onto paper.
it's only my memory of what i make that i write down.
the amounts are accurate, inasmuch as estimations can be,
but i have to make it all all over again,
to make sure it is what it's supposed to be.
which means more treats.
and that's good news for people who love treats.
nights are the best part.
i mean it.
cool enough to still need extra covers and blankets,
warm enough to sleep without shivering under too many layers.
the sound of peepers crooning love songs for frog princesses,
and raindrops tapping rhythms on my roof,
and night birds signing off until tomorrow's early ones start worm hunting.
there's plenty to still do once the day is done,
but the bedtime routine of reading until i nod out is my favorite.
there's a nice bit of Folk Life here in the woodsly goodness,
when the treats are baked and tattoos are over with,
and dinner and dishes are done.
the simple segue into sleep (or sleepish) is the prefect denouement.
i guess that's what i've been most looking forward to.
that might be hugely depressing for all the comfort it brings as it happens.
true stories aren't always happy ones;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, May 15

tortuga torta.

don't be dumb.
that's a horrible name.
there are turtle tarts, though,
happening right now in the woodsly goodness.
that's a thing you don't want to miss out on, for sure-
check the teleport:
creamchee' puff pastry pressed into minimuffin cups,
and baked at high heat make it crunchy.
roasted cashews are like the butteriest ones already-
they're the avocados of the nut world, right?
roasted cashews were sittin' pretty, and pretty lonely,
inside those crispy buttercups until i drizzled some expertism on 'em.
in almost completely ummeasured amounts,
i heated up some buttery earth balance blops,
and some vanilla,
and about a cup of coconut sugar-
which tastes pretty amazing all on it's own.
when that started to bubble,
i added in a few sips of vanilla soymilk to thin it back out,
and keep it from burning up to the bottom of the pot.
why would i doo-doo that freaky saucy sh!t??
because i was making caramel for the turtles.
what are you?
not paying attention at all?
word up.
caramel is for werewolfen full-moon gyspsy bakers, i think.
at least it is over here, at any rate.
once it got all runny and sticky and thin,
i added a tablespoon or two of flour,
and whisked it into a thick molassesy syrup of excellence.
and then i poured it ALL over those nuts.
the coconut sugar tastes kinda caramel in the first place,
so this was really an expert explosion of accurate recreative action.
once that cooled (quickly, at that)
i melted a whole mess of dark chocolate and cocoa together,
and slid a few stripes of THAT all over the tops,
letting it slather and slide into all the empty spaces.
it feels good to activate those snappy turtles.
of course,
those only add up to perfect tens, y'know?
and that's not nearly good enough for us, now is it?
no way,
so to take 'em to eleven,
there are great big diamonds of sea salt crystal sprankles on top.
that's right.
salted caramel chocolate cashew creamcheese-puff-pastry tartlets.
one-bite bombs of burly brutal barbaric battle-beast browns and beiges.
we do what we do over here...
and what we do best is get all kinds of sexy in the kitchen.
we play to our strengths, neighbors.
what else would we do?
be weak-sauce diaperbabyish nancypantses?
not very likely.
treats on treats on treats on treats.
that's what these days and nights have become.
sugar and spice and everything nice.
and that's not so terrible, now is it?
food forever,
and nothing else.
shark gluttons unite, and eat it all up.
raging stormswept savages.
full moons and sour forecasts and wild mood swings in the natural realm.
that's the stuff that seems to sustain the days and nights up here.
and it's certainly the way the supposed sleepytimes are unfolding.
lunatics and blue nightlights and magnetic pulls, pushes, pokes, and prods.
the iron in my blood and in my will are both getting drawn upwards and onwards.
that's that shapeshifting hair-trigger-happiness that comes from flippin' the F* out
as the clouds parts and the big circle in the dark fastdraws it's claws into the sky.
what i mean is-
sleep isn't so good when the moon is full,
and i feel like that makes me want to do more things,
even harder and faster.
i'm a little snappish,
and a lot peckish,
and i'm stuffing my face and clenching my fists and biting my tongue.
our infinite nature can't be escaped, only directed.
i'm headed downwards, on the up and up.
i think that's right;
never quiet, never soft.....


blueberry stuff is almost always purple.
doesn't much matter.
of course,
my favorite aspect of purple is when it's blueberry.
that's real.
and what i love most,
when i'm being lovely?
that would be cheesecake tarts.
that's right.
less prep than a vegan cheesecake,
and just as flippin' expert.
a couple of packages of graham crackers,
crushed into granular sandcastle grist,
and melted butterstyle stuffs, and vanilla,
and a punch of sugary sweetener,
and there's your crusty cup-type containers.
pinch pot muffin-tin manipulation is the way to go.
little flowerpots of sexiness to hold the hottness together.
check the blueberry-magic-type teleport:
you ready?
a package of vegan cream chee',
and a splash of vanilla,
and an even smaller splash of lemon extract,
and a quarter of a cup of confectioner's sugar,
and a generous dollop of blueberry jam,
and a soft shake of cornstarch, over low heat.
and when it's all melty and smooth?
you gotta get activated,
and get a package of freeze-dried blueberries.
and the those crunchy bloobs get all kinds of pulverized,
and the resultant powder gets mixed right in there.
that's it.
and yeah,
they're softer than regular chee'cake,
but they're also substantially smaller,
and that's what makes them so good.
it's creamchee' frosting on top.
too much is the right amount, isn't it?
it surely is.
i bake SO many treats, kids.
i can't help myself.
i still can't help myself.
a subtext of subjective style and substance that i'm creating
is just what the doctor ordered.
what doctor?
the doctor i play, sometimes.
i play doctor,
but not while i'm baking.
i have so many ideas,
but they're ALL revolving around food.
i guess that's my most involved outlet at the moment.
really, though-
it's also another way i can make sure something is going on,
while other other things are going on.
the oven is roaring, while i'm writing and reading and corresponding,
and the mixer is whirring while i'm watering and sweeping,
and the stovetop is simmering some bubbling trouble
while i'm doing what needs doing.
that's it.
i'm getting more done.
because i'm not gonna just sit around watching the convection circulate heat.
no doubt.
i'm filling in the blanks with manageable moments
of momentum-generating progress,
and then stuffing my big dumb face with the fruits of my sidework.
there are two things running in tandem at all times.
side by side, concurrent concentric circles of time and space,
overlapping and echoing every single second.
this is What Is, and it's everything all at once always,
and that's all there ever is;
never quiet, never soft.....

in the sun's shine.

lounging on the walk-out rooftop!
for serious day off maximization,
a sunbathing skin-soak of nutrients synthesizing
from the light of the sky is the best way to get it poppin'.
if you've got a rooftop deck, and the sun is out,
and you aren't up there letting your outer shell assimilate some
righteous radiation......
i think you're probably F*ing up.
that's a thing.
i have plenty to do every minute of every hour of every day.
i mean,
i DID plant a bunch of perennials,
and discover a chipmunk nest in a stump,
and birdwatch for a bit, too.
i ALSO made time to go gently into some slow motion-
because i know there aren't overabundant opportunities to do that.
the only problem is that the deck is so dang hard.
i've got sore spots all over the place from my skinny self
bumping bones against boards!
i took a beating while i took it easy.
i  made sure beforehand i got my smoothie game activated.
what's sun without cool and frosty jauns for your face?
it's weak, that's what.
and i can't hang out with diaperbaby relaxation.
when i'm taking it easy,
i do it as hard as i can.
check the teleport:
virginia coladas!
that's when you know it's getting serious-
i bust out the virgin icy beach beverages!
it's never alright to relax like a little b!tch-A* baby,
but it is okay not to drink.
brain freeze aside,
a tropical fruit explosion in my mouth was exactly what i was craving.
it made the bees jealous as they pollinated the first few flowers in the garden.
and the new plant babies seem super happy in their new sunny spots, too.
this past winter did more damage than i initially noticed,
but as the leaves unfurl and the shoots sprout up,
there are fewer repeat performances, and farther between 'em at that.
we're fillin' in the blanks,
pot by pot, parcel and plot,
until the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is restored to it's well-deserved
grass-rooted glorious gardeny hottness.
no jokes.
the vitamins are saturating the whole place,
the growing is underway,
and the undergrowth is catching up to the overlain vinework, as well.
it's all really happening,
and for a change,
i'm on the same team as nature.
looks like i'll get a check in the assisted-win column.
unless i've just spoken too soon-
plot twists abound, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, May 13

mexican mondays.

and so it goes, friends.
another monday,
another mexican dinnertime.
this time,
it was just beau and i,
macho manly meal monsters,
getting fatter and fatter on some new hottness.
that's a thing.
and another thing that's also a thing?
we didn't eat until eight thirty p.m.
without a plan,
and with sauces being concocted,
and then enduring the resultant sauteing and simmering?
it takes time and then it takes some more time.
we had nowhere to be,
and nothing but hunger driving us onward.
that's good stuff, neighbors;
at least,
it is if you're a werewolfen warrior poet,
enduring the agues of full-moonliness,
and it's inherent epic animalistic appetite.
word up.
primal needs are the ones that get the best results.
i mean it.
i had a bestial bellyache for beans and rice an' sh!t-
and with enough ingredients available,
we pulled it off in the end.
taking forever didn't seem so terrible,
since we were talking while i was inventing extras and specials
for our watering mouths to get stuffed with.
long nights, hard times, harder styles,
and hang outs with homeboys?
that's just what we need.
and it all ended up working out better than you'd have guessed.
just see for yourselves...
check the mexicano-manicotti-type teleport:
enchilada activation!
listen up, kids-
those muthas were incredible.
they get steamed in a brothy gravy!
that's a thing,
and with homestyle ranchero sauce on top?
there's custom refried beans,
a slap of tofu-cashew-nootch notzerella chee' stuff,
a hearty handful of homemade heroic vegan roast,
and a scant scattering of scallions,
rolled in flourtortilla,
and more chee' smeared on top.
F*ing expert.
black eyed peas with seitan sprankles, shallots,
garlic forever and ever by the bulbful, and some select spices,
because protein is good and black eyes are tough.
the sides are designed to add depth and breadth to the main event.
are you wondering if that is a big ol' blop of salsa verde, from scratch?
i cooked it up special,
because i just couldn't bring myself to shave a few minutes with jar sauce.
real talk...
well, clearly,
that's arroz amarillo, with black olives and avocado!!!
and yeah, it's all on a wrap-uppable leaf of lettuce,
with a crunchy slice or four of jicama.
that's good for you, i think.
even more than it was heavy.
full bellies and empty evenings.
the struggle is real, folks.
beau did the dishes,
and he ddn't take it easy on 'em at all-
he washed the sh!t outta those pots and pans like he was trying
to undermine a third world dictatorship on an economic level.
that's for serious.
and we had smoothies, too.
a quart of strawberrries,
a tray's worth of crushed ice,
a cup of pineapple juice,
a generous dousing of sweetened key lime juice,
with crema de coconut for the ultimate in flavorbombing!
it was expert.
check the teleport:
we treat ourselves well,
but only at mealtime,
and only so we can hate ourselves for overindulging
almost immediately afterwards.
too much is the only way,
and the wrench is the only choice.
if we aren't breaking something,
then we aren't fixing it.
creative destruction in full effect.
it's just how it has to happen;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, May 11

call your ma.

you muthas!
happy day.
y'know what today is pretty well known for?
the thing is,
i have sh!t to do today,
so i can't F* around at noon eating scrambled benedict quiche,
or whatever mimosa-laced idiocy is most popular this year.
i can't hang out.
i can keep it semi-appropriate,
and specific to the spirit of the day.
with no moms in sight anywhere,
i still treated myself to a little celebratory somethin'.
check the breakfast-for-no-moms-type teleport:
a hint of coconut,
a trace of vanilla,
a kiss of brown sugar,
and a heap of sugary strawberries?
that's right.
whipped creamy stuffs and real maple syrup, too?
what am i?
an A*hole?
you know that i take my panniecake game very seriously.
and i'm not about to waterbaby out, just because my ma is isn't here.
that's no joke.
i tuned up four of those vegan-sour-cream fluffsters,
and i did it in record time.
shark gluttony takes care of itself.
and bragging about it.
i guess i might be sort of a jerk, huh?
s'pose it beats the pants off of complaining about day to day efforts, tho.
there is food on the table,
there is (soy)milk in my tea...
there's tea in the kettle.
this is What Is,
and it's all that there is.
there's no telling what's next,
only that it's gonna be just as much of a pain in the A*.
i mean it.
shedding layers to acclimate to warmer weather;
shedding old skin to make way for new life;
shedding old roots to break new ground;
it's ALL really happening-
out with the old bustedness,
and in with the new hottness;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, May 10

Rock Bloxxx

what the heck am i gonna do with five and a half dozen cookies?
i mean,
i could eat them all. mean it, though...
for serious,
i could actually eat them all.
go easy, neighbors-
i'm not trying to blarp out on a billion pounds of cookiebaked hottness.
no matter that they're the fully-loaded version, packed with stacks of
chocolate and peanut butter in every single direction,
and crisscrossed with those obligatory Folk Life & Liberty fork tracks.
yeah, kids.
chocolate peanut butter peanut chocolate chip oatmeal coconut jauns.
that's that expert activation sh!t,
for when i find myself spending a friday night all by my all-alonely.
wordimus prime.
when i'm not getting busy entertaining and interacting with company,
i really truly should still be getting busy.
that's a thing.
and honestly,
what's bigger business than a pound of dark brown sugar
and a whole jar of peanut butter
and a deep cup of dense-packed baking cocoa?
these b!tches are burly barbarian battle-beast baked greats,
and they're reppin' the signature style of my personal contribution
to the world of cookies and treats.
Rock Bloxxx.
...for your faces.
big ol' chunky chunkin' circles of soft, crumbly brown on brown on brown.
and i'm going to share 'em with anybody who wants 'em,
just as long as they show up at the tattoo studio to tune up a trio at a time.
three in a row, friends.
because they're rock bloxxx.
don't be dumb.
waking up to a plateful of cookies is expert.
falling asleep to rain tattooing a pittery-patter on the metal roof
outside my bedroom window in the warmish nighttime is expert.
i'm gettin' it, friends.
good stuff is creeping into the faultlines of my broken old busted self.
that's a secret upside, huh?
i figured i'd be taking on water and drowning or sinking before too long,
as i fell apart these past few months and years.
i just was expanding,
and opening up some stuff,
to let in more other other stuff.
there's more,
and it isn't all bad.
i guess that's sort of a pleasant surprise.
i must've been too busy baking to stop and look around.
there's more going on than there used to be,
but i s'pose that's the way secret universal plans reveal themselves.
slowly, but surely.
it's all really happening-
and i guess i'll keep sayin' it,
because i doubt it'll stop anytime soon;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Friday, May 9


strawberry chee'cake tarts!
muffin tins aren't just for muffins.
they're also for graham crackery oatmeal'd sugary buttery piecrusts,
and soft smooth sweet creamchee,
infused with the appropriate extracts,
and strawberry-jammed to the far edges of those fancy little cookie cups.
i mean it, neighbors.
check the teleport:
those strawberries are huge!
...and that's no joke.
they're also perfectly ripened and incredibly sweet.
like more so than you'd normally expect, even.
they're exceptional.
the more of 'em i eat,
the more i'm sure that these tartlet jauns are exactly what we needed.
around here there has got to be some kind of activation at all times.
participating in the creation and enjoyment of all the best parts, always-
and more treats..... forever.
i don't think that's asking too much,
do you?
as long as there's fruit getting sun-kissed and ready,
i'm going to have to use it to get expert all up in all this stuff.
there's an awful lot that needs doing, duders.
i'm busier than i can remember,
and i'm not even tattooing all that much.
weird, huh?
it sure is.
i've got a kitchen crankin' out new hottness, regularly,
i've got rooms full of plants, getting repotted, and rearranged,
and a garden that's doing the same on an even more epic scale.
every place i'm at,
i'm busy doing so much stuff.
i don't hate it-
too much is the right amount, anyway.
i guess that's it-
we all get what we deserve is we work at it long enough;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Thursday, May 8

world cuisine wednesday.

oh my.
i got a little busy again.
i got a lot busy.
and in the spirit of wednesday night dinnertime fun,
i freaked it off with a whole bunch of thai magic for our faces.
that's real.
when i took a bag of cashews,
and added raw sugar and ginger and basil and g.p.o.p.
and cinnamon and black pepper and hot pepper,
and paprika, and a couple seconds' worth of oil?
i baked 'em up and added them to a plate already overflowing
with too many kinds of hottness.
it was just right.
i mean it.
check the teleport:
we took healthy helpings to eleven, for sure.
go ahead-
look closer, neighbors:

rice skins, and lettuce, and cucumbers, and carrots,
and rice thread sticks,
and fresh basil and fresh mint, and bean sprouts!
those are summer rolls, kids,
and the little glass bowl of brown sauce is the magic peanut
homestyle dippin' expertism you wish i wrote down the recipe for.
...and so do i.
what i can say with absolute certainty is that it was way better than restaurant jauns
by a force multiplying order of magnitude,
which was seconded, and then even thirded, by my dinner companions.
is that cilantro-sprankled coconut flour-dredged
coconut flake-crusted, coconut-oil-fried tofu?
it sure is.
the black stuff?
extra fancy coconut black japonicum rice.
with those key lime wedges for squeezin' all up on 'em?
that's IT.
you know you like the way i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
basil garnishes are nice, but crisp cuke spears are nicer,
and pineapple?
well, duh.
it goes great with every damned thing on that plate.
that's a tested and proven fact.
so what's the jasmine rice doing lookin' all cuter-than-cute,
with a scallion tophat on?
oh, not much,
except getting oh-so-ready to get added to a little of this:

yellow curry in F*ing fully-dressed war-ready regalia, y'all.
expert expert expert.
peanuts and sweet onion and garlic forever,
sauteed in coconut oil, with turmeric and cumin and coriander
and g.p.o.p and black pepper and ginger all added in and activated,
before broth and coconut milk simmered it up,
and potatoes and sweet potatoes and baby carrot circles,
and chick peas and grape tomato halves all joined in as it bubbled.
basil and cilantro and scallions all slid in at the end to wilt it into
a big ol' boggin' bowlful of better-than-what-you-had-for-dinner.
i know you saw 'em up top,
but get closer to what's good right now:
nailed the perfectly paired beverage for the meal, kids.
thai iced tea, with coconut creamer, and crushed ice,
and a squirt of sweet lime?
smoother than the smoothest smooches on my lips.
me and my peoples feasted, again,
for world cuisine wednesday.
we make the moments matter more by assigning meaning to each of 'em.
none of it means nothing,
as long as we keep caring about it all.
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
for the food and the friends that i share,
and for the time we span.
it's all really happening,
and it can't be any better than that;
never quiet, never soft.....

chocolate for breakfast?

chocolate for breakfast.
if there's gonna be cake just laying there,
looking all delicious and sassy and inviting,
you've got to fire up a slice for your face.
i mean,
you've GOT to, right?
well, i do, too.
and i did.
and you know something else?
it was worth it.
check the well-balanced-type teleport:
chocolate cocoa cake,
with chalky fattie blops of cream chee' cookiedough,
and chocolate chips on top.
that's how you know it's good.
baby choco chiplets are so cute,
but, they're still considered big when they're supposed to be sprankles.
that's expert size-correspondent science, i think...
it went down so smooth, neighbors,
with a hot cuppa super strong steeped irish breakfast tea.
that's the beverage of choice at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
for realsies.
i guess what i mean is,
i may have sliced my thumb up a bit,
getting some super-sized strawberries ready for sugaring.
there will be strawberry treats as long as those mutha-F*ers
are on in-season in-store super sale, for sure.
(strawberries look like hearts, and sometimes tongues. i like that)
even with a severed digit,
a big ol' vat of tea, and a thick slab of chocolatey cake
makes the morning times pretty flippin' great.
i've got a whole bunch of wildlife enjoying the habitable hospitality
of my run-down grounds and the auspicious eaves of my homestead.
i mean it-
there's a grey fox skulking 'round in the nights!
there're chipmunks making nests inside of the tall stumps in my garden!!
i've got bats eating mosquitoes already!!!
and i've got birds and their babies nesting, resting, warbling,
and all that sort of flighty wingedness all along the treeline
surrounding my lands and lair in this woodsly goodness!!!!
nature wins.
every time.
and right now,
there is so much fauna flourishing around my flora.
it's pretty much a wonderland of squirrels and moles and shrews, too.
all sorts of animal life is returning after that total A*-hole winter.
it's about time.
i'm spreading seeds,
and i'm luring them in.
i'll have a trained, tamed menagerie of battle beasts and war birds by autumn.
that's the plan;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, May 6

mexican monday.

mexican monday AND cinco de mayo?!
at the same time and sh!t??
si, amigos.
we had to get fresh with it.
we just had to.
i was up early proofing mixed-flour dough for soft supertacos,
and pickling jalapenos and onions,
and chopping salsa fresca,
and guac'ing all the holy mole,
and doing all of that sort of expert kitchen business.
that's a thing.
i seem to have a system for overdoing it,
and it's working out perfectly, too, kids.
check the fiesta-de-gordos-type teleport:
that's right, neighbors.
beans on beans on beans on beans.
we weren't kidding around.
at all.
four kinds of treats, on one plate, at the same time?
yes, indeed, duders,
because too much is forever and ever the right amount.
from the yellowish squares-
-baked tofu, shaken in a big ol' bagful of seasonings,
and then seared to perfection before serving.
it's simple, but it's flippin' delicious.
the obligatory refried beans, doctored up with secret spices,
diced onions, cilantro, black pepper, and ho' sauce.
y'gotta make the refrieds expert,
lest you find yourself just chugging down bland brown blops.
and those aren't ever invited to our mexican makeout party.
real talk.
-baked wheat tortilla chips.
what else would we be dippin' into our sauces with?
no!!.....that's what poor people do.
no lazy shortcuts for us.
we even get custom on our crunchy triangles
over here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i mean,
it's a F*ing fiesta after all, for cryin' out loud.
black beans and rice...
...and quinoa and millet and red lentils and amaranth and kaniwa.
heirloom grains an' that, to take the standard b'n'r to eleven.
green peppers and white onions and gold grape tomatoes,
and garlic and garlic and garlic,
and black beans and ALL the spices you'd expect,
plus those turmeric and paprika'd ancient magic grains-
all stirred together and married in a secret ceremony
in the center of a non-stick circle.
so dope.
-super-mutha-'ucking-soft tacos.
that's what's up.
a fat foldable flatbread,
with both semolina and white wheat flours,
cornmeal, salt, wheat gluten for firmness, black pepper,
raw sugar, corn oil, nootch,
and equal portions of fast and slow yeast,
for the fullest flavor with each and every bite,
butter-fried on a red hot skillet .
that's the way we get it poppin' up in my kitchen, kids.
and homemade guacamole, spread thick;
and baby salad greens, because baby-sized stuff is just s'cute;
and those hot pickled jalapenos and onions;
and scallions;
and cilantro;
and fresh extra spicy pico-de-gallo salsa.
that's all the stuffs you need to dress up a whole bunch of new hottness.
new new hottness, even.
that's right, hermanos y hermanas-
there are tiny baby-sized roman-bean burgers in there, too.
so many ingredients, but so simple to pat-a-cake up.
beans and beans and beans and beans,
and maybe even a few more beans.
that's the stuff.
checkin' those supercharged protein gains, b!tches.
me and my peoples take time.
we span it anyway.
at least,
while all the elite edibles are getting all cooked up.
once we have plated up our portions,
and served it all to ourselves,
and then documented it so you can see how we're livin'...
...umm, yeah.
we wild animal attack those jauns with reckless abandon
and ruinous self-indulgence,
and an unhealthy helping of savage stormswept shark-gluttony.
that's no joke.
all that carefully cultivated food-making gets 'sploded into our faces
in the short stretch of just a few seconds.
the only way i feel better is by feeling worse.
is that wrong?
is that the way it is?
these days are made for overindulging in all the things that are good for you.
too much.....
well, you know the rest;
never quiet, never soft.....