mediterranean.

hey neighbors,
it turns out that jerusalem artichokes have got just about nothing
to do with either half of their name.
nope.
not one bit.
they taste just the littlest bit like artichokes,
if artichokes were pretending to be potatoes.
yeah.
spoiler alert:
they're not from jerusalem, either.
however,
they ARE tubers, and that's a name that i find amusing.
i can't help it.
little lumpy hard tubey bumplestiltskins,
hangin' out under the nom de plume sunchokes.
(don't put choke in the name of a food, dummies)
y'ever seen one?
they're like giant ginger, or turmeric,
or heck, even irises, when you dig 'em up.
the thing is,
sliced thin, and battered, they're soft, and juicy,
and real good to eat right up.
did i put chick pea flour, baking soda, salt, pepper, and cornstarch on mine?
i sure did.
did i deep fry those little F*ers until shiny golden brown on the outside,
and succulent and sumptuous on the interior?
obviously.
and did i add them to an already expert blend of european-style edibles?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
of course i did,
check the mediterranean-sandwich-type teleport:

BAAM!!
what have we got here?
the new hot fire for my belly is what we have, kids.
roasted garlic hummus,
roasted red peppers,
wilted arugala,
those no-jokes 'chokes,
caramelized shallots,
and a lemon-parsely-kalamata tapenade,
with just a little bit MORE garlicky hummus,
on an olive-oiled pan-seared mutligrain focaccia mini-loaf????
this dimepiece of dopeness actualy went to eleven, all day long.
i threw in a couple slices of 'choke au naturel, too,
for flavor and texture comparisons.
potato artichokes, guys, is a totally correct assessment.
anyway,
those purple alien spikes on the side?
kale sprouts.
reported to be a magic hybrid of kale and brussels sprouts.
i fugured i had to give 'em a shot, since i love both of those things.
i'll try one more time, but at first bite,
they're the combined traits of two terrific things,
and together they're nowhere near as good as either on it's own.
womp womp.
doesn't matter,
that sandwich had so much flavor, my recessive and usually dormant
southern italian genetics were kicked into gear,
and i wanted to extort funds and have people 'whacked' for several
minutes after i finished eating.
*
sandwich week brings out all the flavors,
and it brings out the all weirdness, too, it seems.
and with the added werewolf wildness calling from the full moon,
reflecting off of all this snow,
and bouncing back up into the atmosphere,
the entire woodsly goodness was blue-light bright,
and colder than it really needed to be.
sixty far-out fahrenheit degrees colder last night than the day before.
yup.
that's real.
and that's also real dumb.
my skeletal fingers haven't stretched out correctly in hours,
and i even sat on 'em to warm their little spindly spider-like digits
back up to a reasonable temperature, too.
awwwwwwww.
what i lack in immediate manual dexterity,
i'm making up for in manhandled hamfist hammering on all the pots and pans
that fancy dinners and big breakfasts beget.
ugh.
that's the part that isn't sexy, guys.
the cleanup aftermath of a wildman berserker sandwich blitzkrieg.
but,
it's what needs doing once the glory is gone,
and the party is over.
everybody wants to sing along,
nobody want to grab a broom.
that's the truth;
never quiet, never soft.....