yup.
that's it.
wrapped up, finished, shut down, done;
and it'll be gone for a while this time...
all the way until january, if my calendar is telling the truth.
i mean,
rules is rules,
and that's the next time a sunday is the start of the month.
i didn't cheap out on the last one though.
nope.
no way.
i'm not about to go out like a weak-sauce chumpleberry surprise, friends.
not once, not never, and not last night, for sure.
check the finale-type teleport:
stacks on stacks on stacks, neighbors.
that's the only way to make it work,
when the fuel is low,
the ingredients are gettin' sparse,
and the light is fading fast,
making expert photography a race against time.
shaved 1/16" red potato chips, shallow-fried on a HOT pan,
for a layered spread of crisp-edged tatery terrificness,
folded on top of one another, making the base of that big baby
into a real bombproof pile of yum.
that's a thing.
on top of that, i threw on some sharp red onion rings.
zing!
i mean,
when you've got fried everything about to go down,
a zappy onion shock thrown in helps to break up the heaviness.
it worked,
and it made my face get psyched for gargantuan 'guini time.
i still had more stuff,
and i tried a new knife-angle on the next tier, too-
big block squares of salt-and-pepper tofu are DOPE.
the whole chunkin' bean brick, broadside-bladed into a full-sized flag
of fresh, loud. seasoned sexxxiness,
firmly planted in the center of the sandwich!
guys,
nothing was all that complicated, but everything worked together to
activate a full barrage of tastes through my lips, over my teeth,
across the palate, and into my big hungry bellyhole.
mmmmmmmmm.
thick juicy red tomato, crisped-up refried-on-one-side tempeh bacon,
and a bunch of watercress, stacked up to put the mack-hand down,
all in one place??
a soft, thick portuguese roll was the platform we launched our mission from,
but it was lookin' hella round,
and it needed a good hard-style pounding-
yeah!
c'mon!!
THAT'S when i took the cast-iron press that'd been heating over an open flame,
and gave that mutha-F*er the squish.
boom.
the squish was the key to this one, kids.
do you see those grill marks?
expert.
but, the ones on my hands?
not really so cool.
ugh.
i actually have a damned fine panini press, too.
i just thought i should try to do it rustic style,
y'know,
for sandwich week.
so,
i did that, and i rustically ruined both hands.
bummer.
the tastiness cured me almost instantly, and i'm glad that was my food an' sh!t.
haha.
we had some elite slaw last night, too.
i'm sayin'-
carrots, celery, red cabbage, green cabbage, pea tendrils, GPOP, and vegenaise,
for a big batch of creamy crawnchy crucial crispiness throughout.
and how about that basil cucumber jauns?
with golden tomatoes, and yellow sweet minipeps??
mmmmmhmmmmmmm.
that's it.
the end.
we went out like champs,
and we turned off the stove with fire to spare.
...nice.
----
yeah.
now i'm coming down off of eight days of sandwiches, and sides,
and i'll tell you what i've learned from it:
too much IS the right amount.
i just knew i was onto something all along.
i'm feeling satisfied.
i did what i set out to,
and even though it was a completely realistic goal,
i do believe i brought the big barbarian business down on each and every plate.
oh, the things i do for the love of food.
what's next?
who knows?
my sauce count is dangerously low,
and for those of you who are aware of the perils of italian-derivative DNA
in the absence of a good crushed tomato marinara, gravy, or sauce.....
y'all already know i gotta remedy that before i do much else.
real talk.
i think a LOT of pizza may be in my immediate future.
***********
well,
it's monday,
that's back to work time for regular folks,
and it's still-at-work time for us really real duders-
when you're a morning person, and a night owl, which is to say,
an always person, who is steady reppin' the always shift.
weekends don't mean much.
if you're having a case of those mondays,
i'd really love to want to feel bad for, son;
i've got my own dirty doings, dastardly deeds, and downright dark times,
but longing for the weekend is never ever one of 'em.
get at me on wednesday night,
when i'm scrambling to finish the last scraps
of whatever i've been working on during my one day to myself,
and i'll complain with you about the lack of leisure in our lives.
hump day is NOT a hurdle in my world, in fact,
you're domestic dromedary doo-doo butter can't begin
to back up against my bactrian barbarian berserker big action every damned day.
always person.
always shift.
always.
too much, too often, times two.
that's what's up;
never quiet, never soft.....
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