yep.
it's the best.
and i truly do enjoy the experience,
every single time,
of between-bread burliness,
and barbarian big action,
with all the burners, broiler, oven, toaster, and griddles going all out all at once,
while the woodsly goodness gets a good strong whiff of why i never ever ever
feel like i'm missing out on full, fresh, loud, hard, solid flavor in my face,
despite being an epic vegan nerdario.
so, i mean, yeah.
sandwiches.
in my mouth.
all the time,
right up until we're out of time....
which just happens to be right now, neighbors.
awwwwww, MAN.
it's all over and out, done with, and gone bye-bye.
that's real-
sandwich week has run it's course;
an eight day spate of expert excellence,
with hyper-blast-off space-rocket hottness every night of the entire celebration.
no weak sauce,
no diaperbabyish phoned-in laziness,
just monster magic jauns, after mega-omega magic jauns,
from the jump off to the sign-off;
and i'll tell you what, kids-
the grand finale was no exception to the continual furious ferocity
and virtuous viking velocity evidenced by my full-blown festival
of shark-gluttonous good time banquet-style feeding frenzy.
that's no joke.
guys,
maybe check the teleport:
so much real real,
so much new hottness,
so much taste,
and all the techniques paired up like super-powered team-ups,
and fought my tongue to a standstill.
ha.
no kiddin',
one exxxtra-large order of autumn awesomeness, just for me.
buttered, seared french bread, all soft and warm,
in an actual 12" foot of baked baguette-shaped sexiness.
and watercress, all pungent and crawnchy, sitting on the base,
holding down the fort.
watercress is good, friends. go eat some.
you won't regret it.
how about thick rectangles of world-wrecking sage & fennel crusted,
cornstarch-dusted baked superfirm tofu?
that's the stuff.
all heavy, and hearty, and toothsome, with that semi-sausagey seasoning,
and a salty exterior that brought the thunder like thor's hammer.
for serious.
that'd be a good sandwich, all by itself.
of course,.
rules is rules,
and the last one can't be anything but an arena-rockin' eleventh-level BANGER.
i mean,
it's not like the finale is allowed to go out like a little baby b!tch.
not on my watch, and not in my kitchen.
you'd best believe i'm not trying to fade away,
i won't do anything less than that doo-doo that i do-
you know what it is:
too much is the right amount.
word up.
and that means MORE stuff has to be happening, always.
that's why there's woodsly wedges of broiled olive-oiled salt and peppery
soft and succulent butternut squash, with just a touch of caramelization on there.
holy sh!t.
that's some next-gen hottness technology from the F*ing future.
it was actually SOOOOOOOO dope that i almost stopped myself right there.
...almost,
except that i already had the leeks grilled and blackened and ready to go.
so those are on there, too.
and they kind of activated some hidden old world sorcery
of the type that hasn't been seen since the stone age.
i'm serious.
i think my whole entire mouth traveled to the past and punched a mastodon in his balls.
THAT'S ringing in a new era of delicious.
then,
just to really set it off,
and send it up to the victual valhalla of the worthiest warrior poetry,
i double-sprankled it.
yuuup.
dried cranberries,
AND
fried garlic,
with a little drizz of garlic-infused finishing oil on top,
and a garnish of parsley, just in case the color contrast wasn't quite doing it for you.
FRIENDS,
I WISH YOU WERE ACTUALLY MY FRIENDS,
SO YOU COULD'VE HAD SOME OF THIS AND BEEN IN LOVE WITH IT.
hahahahaha.
aw.
*
how does one accompany such a resplendent specimen of sandwich?
hmmmm.
how about with kale-cabbage-scallion-parsley-pea shoot and tomato salad,
dabbed with sea salt, black pepper, and vegenaise,
for a soft slaw with balanced acidity for maxxximum taste interconnectivity.
that's real.
more?
you want MORE?
ok.
and fried red onion and tamari-glazed brussels sprouts, too.
that's that good good-thang.
yeah.
***********
i LOVE food.
i LOVE creating it,
i LOVE eating it,
and i LOVE talking about it.
pooping, however, i'm hit or miss on.
you can't have one without the other,
without the bitter, the sweet's just not as sweet, y'know?
i s'pose i'll manage, endure, and overcome.
i'm not gonna miss out simply because the epilogue is gross.
that's the truth.
*
oh,
yeah,
and by the way,
i woke up this morning,
and i couldn't stop myself from thinking about how much
i already miss sandwich week.
...so i did a thing:
it's a secret afterparty encore,
in the form of double day-after morning glorious sandwich sensuality for everyone!!!
tofu and hummus, veggie b.l.t, and all kinds of l.g.b.t-ishness, on english muffins.
that's how it goes, hoes.
this isn't some funny gimmick.
i LIVE it, kids.
this is the actual documentation how a small world turns-
and the circumference of this sphere expands along with my waistline,
and the circles spill out into overlapping ven diagrams of spirit and memory,
and in the densest, darkest ellipse,
eclipsed only by the buns and breads of each successive successful meal,
is me.
that's it.
the molten magnetic lava core of cause-and-effect,
collecting one-off one-shot sniper-style recipes from the secret universal aether,
and sharing them with all y'all.
real life unfolds,
true stories get told,
truly,
and it's ALL really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....
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