i make a sad mess out of what i think i should be eating,
while stone sober,
on march 17th, ion keeping with holiday tradition
as i sit down to supper in my green everything,
NOT THIS YEAR, dudes!
i made the boiled dinner,
but i freaked it off with some expert accoutrements,
and i activated all the best bits without any of the weak sauce.
two non-alcoholic brewskis,
extra hopsy, and molto gross,
poured over a pan of buttery peeled potatoes, carrots, onion, and celery,
with spicy horseradish gritty dijon-style mustard,
and bouillon added in to make it a broth.
i think that sour suckbomb flavor is essential to suffering through
the sad sloppy supper that marks the occasion,
but i'll be damned if i'm ever buying real beer.
i dunno if i've ever mentioned it, but:
it's ok not to drink.
try it sometime, you might find out you're more interesting,
and everyone you know is much less so, without the sauce.
i fired in two wedges of crisp, crunchy, fresh cabbage,
and gave all of it a hard boil for as long as it took to soften all that stuff.
y'know what that gets you?
it gets you that boil'd D.
it's not a culinary masterpiece,
even when you zap it with some parsley sprankles.
it's soft and beige and not that sexxxy.
which is precisely why i activated another 'nother headliner to the lienup.
i made myself some way more engrossing and engaging goodness,
still within the parameters of thematic irish foodstuffs,
only with textures i enjoyed exponentially more.
check the mutha-'ucking teleport:
THAT'S A HASHBROWN-STYLE WAFFLE!!
shoutouts to that guy on munchies who made a thing like this.
i saw it last week, i think,
and tried to replicate it last night without referencing it as best i could.
one peeled new potato, shredded,
with one fat parsnip, prepared the same,
as well as a small carrot, similarly readied,
with strips of super-thinly shaved red onion,
salted, drained, and pressed out of all the extra wetness
that would otherwise ruin a perfectly crisp waffle.
you waffle-ize it!!
get your waffle iron, which i'll assume you have,
if you're claiming to be any kind of really real one,
and make it as hot as it gets.
i sprayed the ever-lovin' sh!t out of it with non-stick cooking oil stuff,
and let my shredded concoction fry itself silly,
until it was brown and crisp on both sides.
it's that easy to make some new hottness happen for the big day.
....and it has none of the sad squish of that boil'd b!tchbaggery.
pickle brine, butter,beer-broth, mustard, celery, caraway, and coriander seeds,
in a pan, with an unpressed and broth-waterlogged steaky seitan,
seared and soaked in all those flavors,
with GPOP, smoked paprika,
and plenty of thyme and black pepper, too.
a splash of cashew-garlic chee', thinned with soymilk,
crema-style on top, to offer a little smoooth and rich cool refreshment to the mix?
that's the big action for sure,.
i almost could've sipped the pea tendrils....
....if i didn't understand the concept that
too much is the right amount.
they're green and sorta shamrocky, bruh.
that means they're mandatory.
i should've taken way more pictures of that big sexxxy waffle,
as usual, i was home late, ravenous, raging, raving,
and really motivated to devour every last scrap of food in the house.
i've really got to rein in this shark-gluttony, guys.
it's become a driving force in my day-to-day plans.
i'm being serious.
there is more to life than cooking.
i'd like to make a whole lot more art.
i've got plans on plans on plans,
and all my time is spent in front of the stove,
or hiking these hills with crabtree.
i need to better arrange my daytime sschedule.
maybe even work a little less?
i have my doubts that that is a thing, though.
i think i'll just have to sleep even less.
there is only room for MORE.
no either's, no or's,
that's what i'm shooting for at all times;
never quiet, never soft.....