why?
i think it's because they reallllly like tacos and guacamole,
but equally, simultaneously, realllllly don't give a single sh!t
about foreign history, culture, or tradition-
so,
while every crackery college girl was getting LIT on tequila yesterday,
i was steady crushing some tangerine limeade seltzer water,
and also bringing the victory parade home to my mouth!!
yuuuuuup.
it's not mexican independence day,
but it IS an american guacamole party.
real talk,
i'm such a sucker for getting expert on stuff that might not actually
be dope when THEY do it,
but somehow gets turned up to eleven
whenever my hands get hold of the hottness.
i hope that's a thing.
anyway, check the cinco-de-mayo-type teleporte:
DAAAAAAMN!!
dios mio, duders.
hand-formed patty-patty-cakes of masarepa and flour!
corn tortas are the truth when it comes to bunning it on the fifth-
with a smidgen of soy yogurt for smoothin' 'em out,
and a pinch of salt for making the corny taste pop a bit-
there's a baby bit of baking soda in there, as well,
to give the wheaten floury end of things a little boost.
how good are they?
the're so good i made a bunch of little bitty ones,
buttered the pan,
and melted up a little daiya chee' in between a few pairs,
for exxxtra-credit miniature grilled chee' sandwiches!
i mean, for realsies, though-
too much is the right amount,
and sandwich week is an exercise in perpetual excess.
now, we had the tortas, and they were fried up in coconut oil,
and lookin' pretty crisp around the edges,
and there was a slice of daiya melted on one,
for a special treat designed to add superlative activation,
and melty nutrients to the big black bean burguesa in the middle.
neighbors,
i spread the baby red leaf lettuce on a massive slathering shmear of guac,
and laid that spicy severely garlicky black bean baby b!tch right on it.
a can of already ready black beans,
a third of a cup of garbanzo flour,
a grabhand of chia seeds, a splash of flaxmeal,
a rainbow of supersweet mini peppers,
half a red onion, the white butts of a bunch of scallions,
mucho mucho garlic, a giant tomatillo and a little tomatillo,
(which just means two tomatillos)
a big ripped hunk of cilantro,
dashes of GPOP, cumin, ground coriander, smoked sea salt, black pepper,
a drizz' of soy sauce and another 'nother drizz of olive oil,
plus a third of a cup of wheat gluten, to hold it together,
as it all got processed in the whirling blades of my food demolisher.
i let the pressed patties rest all day in the fridge,
and then i slowly cooked them on medium-ish heat,
while i let everything else fall into place.
as for the 'guini-
MORE guacamole was called for;
and a scoople of salsa fresca,
which i must mention was lookin' very especial in crucial rojo red;
due to a crazy wide variety of tomatoes;
and lastly, but of vast importance, the true upgrade:
coconut cashew crema.
F*ing expert.
a full-fat rim of coconut milk, pureed with cashews,
until the whole thing was a decadent and deviantly dope dollop on top of everything else.
going to eleven is not some weak sh!t for weak-A* diaperturds.
you gotta get it poppin', or you gotta go away.
rules is rules.
guys,
ho' sauce fired-up refried pintos, with lime?
always.
we doo-doo that blarpity bean blops-style stuff whenever we do anything
that seems even vaguely south of texas.
for serious.
i love 'em,
and you might too... if you're cool, i mean.
MORE guac, MORE salsa caliente, fancy hexgonal chips,
and lime wedges everywhere, to put the citrus twist to the whole damned jam.
uh-huh.
-
the seltzer i mentioned earlier?
in new england, polar is king,
and they've got the lim' edi' flavors killing it year-round.
tangerine limeade is dope,
and what's even better is it's just water, invisible deliciousness, and bubbles.
that's it.
like, it's practically alchemystical sorcery, in liquid liters...
i'm about this woodsly goodness i've cultivated around myself-
stone sober, steady munching up awesome food,
and truly grateful for the life that lets me do both.
so,
for the record, one more time:
it's okay not to drink.
unless it's that seltzie.
then, it's imperative to chug gallons at all times.
word up.
playing around during sandwich week won't stand,
and weak sauce can't be tolerated even during normal weeks.
in the interest of interesting edible elitism,
i'm making food every morning,
in advance of the advancements in Folk Life & Liberty Fortress time management
kitchen collective cooperative commune jauns.
y'know?
i get while the gettin' is good,
before the others get up, and get into their schtick, too.
what's god that's gettin' gotten this morning?
teleport:
muffz,
one buttered up, and hooked up with baconish,
dry fried tofu, spinach, and sprouts.
the other, a tofu b.l.t. straight up.
-
i eat a lot.
i cook a lot.
i do the things that make me happiest,
so when i also do the things that need doing,
i can hold onto the big action boomfire that has either just passed,
or is soon to come.
that's a sandwich,
with work as the middle, and bookended by the best buns a fella could ask for.
ha.
this is What Is,
and it's unfolding along well-worn time-tested creases
in the secret universal planagram blueprints-
it's all really happening,
it's all already really happened,
it'll all really happen again and again;
never quiet, never soft.....
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