Sunday, October 16


what's up, dudes-
y'know that i love the treats, right?
i mean,
treats are a worthwhile pursuit,
at least,
in so far as i can concern myself with pursuits,
i'd much rather chase these treats than try to track my hopes and dreams.
no, for real,
i can catch a treat.
and in this instance,
my go-to pastry dough brought the furious flakes yet again.
i made myself some anniversary galettes.
yeah. that's right.
i love to celebrate the passage of time,
the elapsing ellipsis of perfunctorily paused punctuation-
^to be continued, after tarts.
that is how i feel.
and the feels are a merciless mistress.
these seckel pear pinwheels are perfect and tender and loving,
in all the ways a galette should be.
check the mutha-effin'-seventeen-type teleport:

i'm just sayin',
how flippin' kyooooot are those little reddish brown pears???
i knowwwwwwwwwwwwww.
and they're sweet as heck.
in fact, the little sack they came in calls them sugar pears!
awwwww. that's nice, kid.
i laid down a centrally severed sliced circle of chartreuse bartlett pear,
right over a little spread-out splat of vegan creamchee'-
the fatty-boombattyism of the chee'
keeps the wet baked syrup of the fruit from F*ing up the pastry.
smart, right?
you've got your bartlett, then some brown sugar,
then a sexxxy wedge of that seckel, and dried cranberries,
a dusting of brown sugar,
and black walnuts,
all laid out in the middle,
and then the edges get crimped along the folds
that hold all that hottness snug in a buttery embrace.
410F twenty minutes, until crispy and flaky and golden and all of that good stuff-
and after a walk with crabtree,
in the brisk 24F degree windy hills of the woodsly goodness.
i kapowdered those jauns to make 'em exxxtra-pretty.
no ugly food, my friends.
especially not on an anniversary.
the pastry dough has become a standard item on the makey-list up here.
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
a T of sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 stick plus 3-4T butts
3-4T creamchee',
and just enough soymilk to soften and stick it.
use a food processor.
if you don't have one,
stop wasting time,
and go get a food processor.
^ i'll keep refreshing the recipe every time, so you can get on it,
and get the glowing galette glitter of this tasty scene-
i mean,
it's too flippin' good to leave alone,
and that's in the rules, brother.
i celebrated in predictably disappointing style.
i  had a little stencil drawn up, so i could tattoo myself,
a little tribute to the tedious trials of tattooing,
steady on, and on a steady grind of steadily suckier sh!t\-salads,
and in relative anonymity, at that, for the last decade or so.
instead, i did 7 tattoos.
3 womens' weekend wine enthusiasts
2 happily/lawfully-wedded aniversarealists
1 of which was a cover-up of some epic youthful sportsball enthusiasm
2 youngish ladies from the far-flung flannel-clad frontier of eastern maine
i had a total of 15 words, in twelve different fonts;
4 silhouetted birds;
fifty or so silhouetted trees split among multiple clients;
4 snowflakes;
and a wine glass.
.....all in all, an expert day.
the stuff that dreams are made up of, actually.
that's why i brought the galettes.
i led with that in the intro, buddy.
it's foreshadowing.
and as the day went pear-shaped,
the taste of the pear tarts was present in my mind,
and the aroma of buttery crusts was saturating the room.
like i said,
i can catch a treat,
but i can't catch a break.
wordimus prime.
it's all really happening.
it'd be a whole lot funnier,
to me, if it wasn't what was happening,
to me.
in fairness, every single client was a great sport,
and i had a great time conversing with all of them.
good audiences are maybe more rewarding than great ideas.
is that too narcissistic, douchey, and judgemental?
happy anniversary it was NOT,
but another 'nother milestone milemarker,
capped by a diarrheally gross dog's A*-hole,
and a missed shot at zappin' on myself,
it most assuredly WAS.
long nights, had styles, and nothing but sh!t at the tail-end.
it genuinely sounds so comforting.
routines become traditions, i guess;
never quiet, never soft.....

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