Thursday, April 21

HOT in the kitchen.

duders,
when you know you want some asian food,
but you just can't decide what regional specifics should get
the big tasty nod to headline the dinner plate festival,
i think the key is to allow for a two-stage co-top-billing double feature.
word!
to that end,
i got molto busy in the kitchen,
trying to let the battle of the bands be a buffet of big tastes for my big fat face-
and as usual,
it was put together kind of last minute.
if we're being all the way honest,
which of course, we always are,
i like to have the hot hot heat timed jusssst right for smelling goood,
and tasting great, and steaming itself into perfection
right when my ampy-d gets home.
yeah.
i had all the ingredients on hand,
i had a semblance of a plan,
and i put it all in place in my usual on the fly way;
hurried, rushed, pushed, and with every F*ing burner on the stove raging as one.
that's how i make it happen, neighbors.
a berserker whirlwind of improvisation as the heat gets things activating,
and the knives flash dangerously close to my fingertips.
yikes.
(i should also mention that the dog is a huge help,
if what i needed was help getting less done in a distracted and infuriated manner)
ha.
anyway, it had japanese influences, and thai sensibilities,
and it came together like a supergroup of super nutrients.
check the new-square-white-plate-type teleport:

woooohoooooo!!!
guys,
fresh basil for biting into everything with?
that's expert.
heirloom baby rainbow tomatoes?
yum.
they go with that crawnchy cool cilantro lime salad-
red and green cabbage, scallions, lime zest, bean sprouts, cilantro,
and lime juice to dress it up like a dang citrus champion.
it was almost too good.
....except that there's no such thing.
so accept that there's no such thing.
limes for activation,
and cukes for cooling off the fire from that big pile of stir-fried saucy stuffs.
nice.
broccoli, and bok choi for the brassica section;
sweet and tiny red peppers;
holla at your jalapenos;
shallot rings;
giant garlic slices, clove after clove of superior flavor domination;
sauteed sweet onion, and bias-cut carrots;
and roughly pre-fried sticky tofu cubes...
y'ever get that one block of tofu that is just kind of an A*-hole?
it's drained, it's firm, it's ready, as far as the eye can tell,
but it hits the pan and immediately throws a four-year-old-in-a-department-store tantrum?
yeah.
i made it work, by beating it up,
and spatulatin' it's dumb self into submission which in turn gave it a perfect texture.
hard and soft, crisp and smooth, ugly and dope.
and that's just the thing-
we stay ugly up here, but we also stay dope.
rules is rules.
and how about that sauce?
let's just ask it:
me: 'you on point sauce?'
sauce: 'all the time, tip.'
thai bouillon, soy sauce, rice vinegar, agave, ginger, ground mustard, GPOP,
ho' sauce, chili garlic paste, fresh macerated garlic, black pepper, lime juice and zest,
and corn starch to let it hit that fire-hot pan and thicken with the quickness.
we aren't steaming anything, y'all-
nope.
we're firestorming the whole shebang.
uh-huh.
the slurry was furious,
and the results were un-F*-with-able,
especially considering those fat thick luscious udons were one hundred percent righteous.
yeah.
a splash of thai broth, a little lime zest,
and heat,
just to get 'em going....
and they went, friends.
they went right along with that vegetable war party right to the gates of taste,
and they stormed the sh!t right outta them.
real talk.
the thing is,
after all that enjoyment,
there was still the encore.
yup.
and those brussels sprouts are for sure the brand new hottness.
sesame oil fried, soy-glazed smoky jauns are what's up.
liquid smoke and tamari, together, with those sesame seed sprankles,
to half-soften, and half sear the halved sprouts to a level eleven tier of triumph.
for serious.
the saddest moment of the evening was when they were all gone.
awwwwwwww.
*
so,
i make nice dinners.
and that's cool.
but,
i'm blarping out.
and that's not cool at all.
turns out,
all this walking with crabtree had better turn into running soon,
or else i'll be running out of room.....in my pants.
zing!
salty soy sauce gives you the swells, which are totally worth it,
but pizza six times a week gives you the thick-crust midsection,
and while i recognize that i could eat a little less pizza,
and fewer indulgent dinners,
i also recognize that too much is the right amount.
i'm not a weak sauce diaper-waterbaby,
and therefore,
that means MORE exercise,
because LESS awesomeness is not a viable option.
c'mon.
that's some b!tchbaggery right there.
MORE running, until my knees fall off,
which is likely to be about five feet from the starting point,
or MORE miles with heavier burdens than the conscience crushing weight
i shoulder in my heart and mind.
hahahahahha.
stop.
it's all really happening,
and i can feel it.
it's pinchable, in inches,
somewhere around my navel.
this is What Is,
and real-life documentarianism is how it's told;
never quiet, never soft.....

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