Thursday, January 5


in a surprising turn of events,
i did NOT eat alone last evening.
my friend carlos kept me company,
and kept pace with the shark-gluttonous stuffing of faces.
we listened to freestyle bars on bars from unlikely rap champs,
and we shot the sh!t,
and most importantly,
sandwiches were created off the cuff, like a hot 16 on the cypher,
only, on a skillet to showcase my skillset-
c'mon, man.
you know the routine:
i break bread,
i bake bread,
i make bread,
and i eat bread,
last night was a damned dope example of some of that.
my man wanted some crunch,
earlier in the day
my friend meryl was talking some sort of floridian noise about pickles.
i decided to drop the science on both of them,
and turn my kitchen into a dirty deli for a little minute.
when you HATE ketchup,
and think pickle relish looks like previously-chewed food,
thousand island dressing is a definite no-go,
when you LOVE getting expert at the stovefront,
you improvise, and some might say, improve on the previous technology.
check the flippin' teleport:

REUBENS, not stoddard,
more like like paul, but not peter paul-
and not even all that pee-wee either.
look at that crisp buttery grilled hottness, tho.
shiny with hard-styled, hot-iron-pressed golden greasy boomfire.
on either side of that homeade high-hydration sensational
unseeded sourdough mixed rye bread,
there is a layer of daiya chee' swiss-style slices.
they're sharp, bruh, and they glued it all together during the flippin'.
....that's dope.
and what's a reubenesque without some sort of cabbage.
a quick salt and vingear pickle of purple and green crisp strips gave us
the kind of crackle we craved, along with that tangy zing we love.
seriously, salt, vinegar. and time are all it takes.
the longer you leave it, the brinier it becomes.
that's just common sense.
stacker-style flattie-fattie pickles?
thousand island isn't invited but those dilly cukes still are.
and  how about home-pickled red onions?
F yeah.
zesty ones, at that.
i love pickled onions!!
apple cider vinegar, enough to cover a whole red sliced onion;
with a T whole  mustard seed;
1 tsp whole black peppercorn;
a dash of smoked sea salt;
a shake of crushed red pepper flakes;
and a T of raw sugar-
simmered until the onions get pink, and removed from the heatsource,
but not the vinegar bath, until room temp.
the onions get all kinds of soft, and see-through, and unformly rosy,
and unbelievably delicious.
you know you want that in your mouth, man.
a little sriracha vegan mayo, with both the sauce and the crushed pepper powder?
it's pinkish, it's like ketchup, only not budget,
and it's spicy, which is molto nice with all that pickle sh!t poppin' off.
gotta smear that on both sides,
and then, last, but importantly,
smoky, black-peppery, salty shaved seitan pastrami.
that's the key.
2 cups of seitan, crazy-thinly filet-styled,
with a splash of soy, a dash of liquid smoke, a glug of olive oil,
a spoonful of seitan broth, and a sh!tload of black pepper,
sizzled until brown and sromatic as heck.
THAT'S what i'm talking about.
buttered bread makes me happy.
so did this sandwich.
with chips and slaw, deli-style, to finish off the plate,
and make the experience as expert as possible?
i do that for my dudes.
i woke up thinking about sandwiches.
i fell asleep stressing about sandwiches.
somewhere in there,
i also baked a couple loaves of bread.
indeed i did.
because i'm good like that when it comes o making more and MORE
of all the things i like and love.
i fired up a whole mess of treats.
i mean,
rules is rules.
i am not taking my holiday celebration lightly.
i never do,
too much is the right amount,
and i'm not about to wimp out on my own special time.
this is my thing.
i wish i knew somebody else as dedicated to dominating one thing,
for eight days,
in a row,
as hard as possible, with nothing saved in reserve for day nine.
it's ALL really happening,
between bread,
between the lines,
in an open kitchen with no behind-the-scenes secrets.
this is it.
never quiet, never soft.....

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