that sound good to you?
yeah.
me too.
as a matter of fact,
i pretty much want that every day,
but,
holy sh!t would i become an enormously gelatinous mass
of mush-middled man-pig if i were to regularly indulge in that sort of decadence.
i do like 'em, though,
and we did have 'em, too.
...and when we're already readily gettin' busy with some burly panniecakes,
we gotta go whole-hog full-bore flat-out supermegalodonsharkgluttonous,
and make sure we're munching up on those fully-complemented
BIG breakfast jauns.
...word up.
i'm sayin'-
me and my kids, we like a thorough brekkie fry-up,
and we're not afraid to get involved in some in-depth charged nourishment.
don't believe it?
okay.
then check the big-big-type teleport:
dudes,
apple-somethin'-somethin' weirdie storebought soysages notwithstanding,
this was a custom good morning magic explosion from
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress test kitchen laboratory,
live and direct straight to the future.
mmmmm.
cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice,
coconut sugar,
crushed coconut flake flour,
the works.
that's what's up with that panniebatter, broski-mo.
y'wanna make some?
ok.
do it like this-
***********
pumplestiltskin panniecakes:
1 cup a.p. flour;
1/3 cup ground coconut flakes (unsweetened);
^NOT coconut flour, that's a different consistency, man. c'mon)
1/3 cup freshly ground thick old fashioned rolled oat flou;
GET A SPICE GRINDER, AND MAKE THIS SH!T YOURSELF.
IT MATTERS MORE THAN YOUR MOUTH CAN CURRENTLY COMPREHEND.
...but it will, once you doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
4 T coconut sugar;
2 tsp baking kapowder;
1/2 tsp salt'
1 cup non-dairy milk ( i used french vanilla silk creamer i.d.g.a.f.);
1/2 cup pumpkin;
1/4 cup vegan sour creme;
1 tsp vanilla;
3-4 T melted butterish;
cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger to taste.
whisk it up, get it gloppy, and let it rest for like, an hour.
oh yeah-
and then, when it's settled,
you'll prob'ly have to hit it with some more 'milk.
that's okay.
if you leave it too thick, and it stays dense, you get bombs,
not cakes of sunfeathery freshness and light airy fluff.
just thin it out enough to drop from a ladle easily,
and after that, cook 'em up.
-if you don't know how to cook pancakes,
you're beyond my ability to assist,
and what's more, i don't love you, and i probably wont ever, either.
- i freaked mine off with real maple syrup, kapowdered sugar,
and second-chance cranberry compote.
damn, that was a good idea, too.
100% expert panniemancakes made my day.
*
yeah.
so,
we also had tofu scramborghini.
you know i like me a good scrambo, neighbors.
that's no joke.
turmeric, GPOP, salt, pepper, smoked paprika, and nootch.
it's so simple, sizzling in olive oil,
but it gets me every time.
yum4tum.
lately,
i've been all about activating it with fried tomatoes.
i use the small sweet ones, because i like cute things.
what?
i'm allowed.
it adds a whole new realm of desirable dopeness to the dish,
and i think we all deserve a little more desirable dopeness, don't you?
heck yes we do.
believe that.
*
skin-on rustic new red potato homeboyfries are the boomfire lava
that leaves us all wanting so much more of it.
huh?
oh, yes, i'm so for real right now.
potatoes are the TRUTH.
get with it, or get outta here.
rules is rules.
oven roasted at 350F forever,
until they lightly Garlic Powdered and Onion Powdered,
salted, peppered, and olive-oiled outsides are golden crispy hottness embodied,
and tossed into a butterishly blistering skillet, with chopped onion,
and paprika, and smoked paprika, and hot paprika, and ho'sauce,
until they got that good-good crispy crawnchiness, kid.
i'm not sayin' you should start it out on medium heat.
no way.
i go high heat always, from the first to the last,
but you'd better be on yo' sh!t, son.
or else all you'll have is burnt bits of b!tchbaggery.
ho'sauce likes to turn blacker than black quicker than quick.
i'm tellin' you to pay attention.
that's all.
scallion sprankles give 'em a little coolwater sharp slap of exxxtra.
and that's always good.
***********
28 days later,
and NOvember has been a real F*ing A*hole.
historically my least favorite month, by far,
and this time around is only serving to solidify that ranking
as least among the calendar's pages forever and ever.
it has been lonelier,
and more demanding,
and a good deal bloodier than most.
yep.
crabtree is hurting, and draining lymph all over the house.
his ugly wound is abscessed,
and i'm obsessed with treating it.
both with antibiotics and warm compresses, which seem to help.
the painkillers make him especially battle-beastly, too.
ugh.
it's been a brutal weekend of canine complications,
and i'm well aware of how worse for wear my attenuated nerves
and impossibly saggy baggy eyes have been as a consequence.
so,
i'd like to take a little moment just to say,
if i ever see that other dirty used budget dog ever again,
it's life will be compressed into mere miserable minutes,
and real talk-
lifelong vegan or not, his future is forfeit.
i'm ride or die for my only friend in this forest realm;
when he's hurting i'm hurting,
whoever did the hurting has it coming as far as i'm concerned.
and i pay my debts in full.
daaaaaaamn.
infinite nature applies to everything.
dogs being dogs,
rule being rules,
and vengeful lightning-striking vikings doing what they do, too
that's a hard style, huh?
well, there it is.
it's documented, i meant it,
and it's all really happening, which just so happens to be the whole point.
what's more-
my mouth is still a shredded bed of scar tissue,
almost as if i'd done some heavy makeout sessioning with a mako shark,
and my hands are torn in ways only a savage thanksgiving could accomplish,
seriously,
grating shredding chopping mincing dicing and crushing kept my mitts
in a mass of massacred mayhem that gloved-up safe-tattoo-practices have perpetuated.
ouch.
plus,
my two smallish human accomplices are back safe and sound in their hometown,
miles and hours away from the woodlsy goodness.
we're home alone, me and my vangogh'd little viceroy.
there's very few numbers on the thermometer.
barely double digits, in fact,
but we've got miles to manage before i leave for work,
hurt or not,
healing or harming,
there's work to be done.
we've got a job to do, and this it-
walking uphill, but always headed downhill;
never quiet, never soft.....
No comments:
Post a Comment