Friday, March 31


burly beetroot bulgur and black bean burgers???
i plan the level of enthusiasm for my day around predictions
of how dope dinner is likely to be.
and without a definite menu on the schedule,
there's more anxiety about everything else,
even though in reality, there's no actual reason to be stressed,
since i can't possibly be late for an outcome that hasn't been decided upon.
that should be comforting,
but it's not.
i mean,
without a rewarding finale to my day's doings,
i have nothing to really look forward to.
is that sad?
i can't tell.
in order to prevent hostilities from developing in the real world's
actual tactile and tangible interactions,
i've gotta get a pretty good idea about what the eff i'm gonna eat
before i get to work.
that way,
i'm able to happily hum along to the humdrum doldrum'beats
that tattoo a tempo to my tedious tattoo studio tenure.
it's torturous.
you don't like knowing what's coming?
the whole world is full of surprises, including dinner, and that's a-ok with you?
i don't think i want to live like that.
beetroot bulgur black bean burgers.
i saw a butcher babe blast a batch of similarly stacked sandwiches a week or two ago,
on munchies, on YouTube, on my computer,
while i was working on a blog for you guys.
i took what i remembered of that,
and added in my own touches as i went,
and made myself a deep-hued, hearty, not heavy, wholesome helping of hamless 'burg/
this jaun is the
word up.
check the sarnie-sexxxy-type teleport:

pickles, baby greenleaf lettuce, and red onions,
plus a very ripe mashed avocado,
all on a homemade buttery bun.
that's dope.
and besides the three ingredients listed,
what else is in the burger?
a whole LOT of stuff.
i mean,
too much is the right amount, after all.
shoutouts to those beets, tho.
here's the laundry list of procedural steps and stages for your face:
2 peeled and roasted medium sized beets, baked at 420F for 40 minutes-
covered for 20, uncovered for the last 20;
1 small yellow onion, caramelized;
with 3 large mushrooms, browned and sweated down, with sea salt;
3/4 cup bulgur wheat, prepared normally (slowly boiled for 15 minutes)
1 cup toasted cashews, pulverized into paste;
lemon juice;
black pepper;
2 cloves roasted garlic;
4 T wheat gluten;
2 tsp xantham gum;
3 T olive oil.
^ prepare each part, and combine them in a food processor,
where that all gets pulped and pressed until it's a slightly chunky paste.
let it cool before you shape it,
and make 1" thick pattie-boombatties,
about 7/8 the size of each of your homemade buns-\
so when you bite 'em, they don;t squish out the sides.
now, they're firm, but they're not dead bodies, so they've still got give, y'get me?
word up.
pan fry 'em util they're browned.
i dusted mine with GPOP,
because that's my favorite flavor combo in the whole wide world.
neighbors, they've got ALL the flavor.'ll be glad this makes six of 'em.
you like slaw?
me too.
purple and green cabbage, shredded on the magical mandolin,
paper-thin carrots, julienned,
and parsley for that green leafy nutrient stuff that'll make you feel better
about the fat slap of vegenaise, and all the pink himalayan salt in there, too.
and fries, guys.
because burgers and fries are a winning team.
i was so smitten with the uniformity of these skin-on jauns that i even allowed myself
to indulge in some normally-frowned-upon activation.
at least, here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
we don;t normally partake in ketchup.
after all,
that's what poor people do.
not for nothin', but if we're already slumming it with burgers,
why not go all the way down the tubes to the bottom of the barrel?
if only to remember what NOT to do regularly.
.....stop it.
on the real,
ketchup is best used only in the most spare of circumstances.
aaaaaand march is done.
that was fast.
too fast, in fact.
a blink, a sigh, and time is about to fool our faces with april showers...of snow.
the woodsly goodness has shown itself to be determined to act like a real jerk.
i s'pose we were due for a good dose of doo-doo butter-
to chase away all the weak-sauce diapery waterbabies who can't cope.
if you're a fighter, you'll choose the place with the most fights.
if you're a provocateur, you'll always choose the wrench.
like this time,
in this place ,
that's the same damned thing.
it's all really happening, and quickly.
this is What and When and Where.
the How and Why remain a mystery;
never quiet, never soft.....

No comments: