yup.
today is the third and final day of long weekend shenanigans,
an exxxtra day off from work and school,
for both kids and adults who reside in the realm of the regular waking world,
a day purportedly designated for remembering the fallen warriors
who died fighting for the greater good and higher ideals they believed in.
.....you'd almost kinda think there'd be fewer beer-party barbecues, wouldn't you?
uh-huh.
regs love ANY excuse to get drunk in groups of four or more, i s'pose.
well, for the record,
my weekend is long, too.
but, then again, they all are.
that's right.
i'll be tattooing today, just like yesterday,
and there's plenty more of the same tomorrow, too.
it gets more and more entrenched in my mind with each passing party i pass on
that part-and-parcel holiday-off gathering time is not my time, nor my place-
but,
i'm beginning to think that just maybe the workplace isn't either.
y'know?
i'm sayin',
i still like working, in my own bemoaned and begrudging way,
and i really really like the interactive social outlet that a controlled setting provides;
wherein my audience is essentially captive,
right up until i've completed their request, and by then, hopefully,
they're entertained, if not converted to the virtues of lightning-striking viking values.
it's a lot to take in, or so i've been told.
damn.
i'm sure they'd love a dated cliche heavy metal soundtrack,
and superficially supercilious cool-kid black-t-shirted surface-scratchin' chit-chat...
i just don't have any of that.
i've only got real talk, and pink toenails-
and i'm sitting solo in a big empty room in the back of the tattshack,
away from the flow of interoffice traffic;
well apart, physically and figuratively,
from the cross-talk and cooperation my coworkers collaborate on.
yeah.
i do my dirt all by my lonely, neighbors.
and, yesterday,
i got a trunkful of groceries before i went to work,
and then spanned a spell in the company of out-of-state haters
in exchange for those much-coveted and hard-earned movie checks,
and when i finally got home?
i immediately started with the pots and pans,
and got it all all kinds of crackin' with some new new hottness for my
solo sunday evening of labor-intensive holiday hermit happenings.
word up.
work on work on work on work,
...and when it was all finished?
i did all the dishes.
awwwwww.
here's the thing, kids-
if i'm gonna do it, i'm gonna do it to eleven.
anything less would make me an A*-hole.
rules is rules.
check the grilling-like-a-real-american-type teleport:
that's a beastmaster monster of a plate, y'feel me?
overfilled with big action, and big tastes,
and big portions.
what's the point of only making enough for one person?
don't do that.
but how did all of that happen?
i was hoping you'd ask-
i simmered some red lentils in vegetable broth and liquid smoke,
and i added black pepper, and also about six cloves of garlic.
while that was bubbling away,
i browned some finely minced yellow onion in olive oil,
and added it into the pot as well.
at the same time, in my manly mixin' bowls on the butcher-block-rockin' island,
i had shredded radicchio and napa cabbage, carrot peelin's,
chopped parsely, coarse black pepper, and cilantro stirred up with a slap of vegenaise.
yes, that's IT,
y'all- slaw is expert.
and i had heirloom grape tomatoes, more of that minced onion,
a pinch of parsley, a slew of scallions, olive oil, salt and pepper marinating
in a little bitty drizzle of pickle juice, too.
why?
because sweet pickle relish is philosophically repellent to me,
but tomato relish sounds dope!
(and it IS)
while those juicy bowls were slowly combining their flavors together,
i mixed a cup of wheat gluten, a punch of chick-pea flour,
a whole lot of garlic powder and onion powder,
sage, thyme, crushed rosemary, parsley, scallions, coarse ground fennel seed,
caraway seed, celery seed, fresh, toasted, smashed mustard seeds, basil, oregano,
smoked paprika, black pepper, and a few tablespoons of tapioca starch.
uh-huh.
when the lentil mash was ready, it went right in there,
and got kneaded up into some magnificent and masculine protein-rich dough.
proud of that little creation, to be sure.
rolled that into sausagey cyclinders, wrapped each in tight-fitting foil,
and started steaming them into firmness.
then i went and fired up the lump hardwood charcoal on the grill,
so they'd be ready to transfer to the fire
at the exact same time the fire was ready to receive 'em.
so,
now i had two kinds of vegetable toppings ready,
and the meatless meatpipes getting ready,
but that's not enough is it?
c'mon.
don't be dumb.
too much is the right amount!
i gotta do the thing a little harder, a little more, and a little fresher.
i had more vegetables,
and i think you can all agree they needed activating.
i doo-doo that activation-style sh!t, and that's no joke.
a humongous handful of brussels sprouts,
halved and packed into my long-handled fire basket did the trick.
y'gotta have some sort of extra-extra nutrient jauns, guys.
those mo-fo's got glazed with a custom agave-sweetened balsamic vinegar
and tamari sauce, with a turn or two of coarse black pepps,
and some g.p.o.p., for maxed-out magic, of course.
mmmmmmmmmmmmm.
i added what was left of the green onions to the grill basket,
and when they were black enough,
i chopped those F*ers up into sprankles!
those big buns were olive-oiled,
and i gave them a flame-kissed toasting.
just as the steamy hot bubbles were bursting out of both ends of those sausages.
timing is everything,
and everything was right on time.
the assembled battle-dogs are impressive looking, are the not?
wooooooooohoooooooo.
i know.
there're a few pickle stackers on each bun,
and a bed of slaw, with some whole-grain mustard spread on there as well;
all before the tomato relish and the grilled scallion butts really bring
the whole big business home with a bang..
yup.
i'm about that good life.
turns out, even though i'd powerfully prefer it,
there's no real need for people to be present.
i can do what i want, and do it faster, louder, harder,
and more effectively efficient without an audience;
it just feels a little teeny tiny bit less rewarding without someone there
to laud the labor and the flavor.
...and maybe wash a pan or two, too.
*
start to finish, i treated myself to a feast.
making it up as i go,
and going as hard as i can,
after work, and before bed.
those are the moments that are mine all mine all mine,
and i'm making the most of each and every one of them.
plus,
i've got a whole bunch more sausages,
and half a sack of buns left for today's dinnerly dopeness.
yep.
it's all really happening all over again.
yeah-
another whole other 'nother kind of long and lovely sandwich is on the menu tonight.
huh?
oh, yes.
it's just me again this evening,
but i'll bet before bedtime i'll be singing lullabies to a totally sweet babe.
ha!
while i'm slowly sarlacc-style digesting my bloated belly's blarpity smorgasbord,
i'm SO sure it'll be a long. low, and lovely late night of
wallowing my way towards slumber like a lumbering flummoxed lummox.
ew!
the perils of pigging out are numerous,
but the joys of food are more so.
this is where i span my time,
this is how i expend my energy,
this is what i spend my money on,
this is the spelled-out space where i expel my spells;
never quiet, never soft.....
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