Sunday, April 8


you have to make your own barbecue sauce.
i mean, c'mon, dudes-
ready made jar sauce is not the path to glory.
that's the truth.
if you can tune it, adjust it, modify, ameliorate, and improve upon
the existing foundation of saucely sexxxiness, i think you owe it to yourself,
and to the spirit and memory of sandwich week,
to make sure what you've got going on goes off the charts, and up the scale,
all the way to eleven.
F* yeah!
to that end,
i got it right, and stood righteously at the stovetop,
basting my browned up bits in BBQ boomfire.
day seven wasn't nothin'  to F* with:

word up.
i had bread on hand, of course-
i've been baking like crazy every danged day-
i had my expert homemade from-scratch seitan, too.
seriously, if you make it once a week, or even every ten days,
you'll always have just what you want at your fingertips.
unless you want to be a lazy lil bihhhhh.....
then i guess you either buy it, or go without;
but that sure sounds like weak sauce to me,.
it's a simple thing to whip up some sultry spicy smoky sauce-
here's the latest and greatest recipe, from me to you:
in a small mixing bowl, combine:
3 T black pepper ketchup;
1 T dark agave;
1 T maple syrup;
1 T organic sweet ketchup;
1 tsp malt vinegar;
2 T horseradish dijon mustard;
1 tsp tamari;
1 tsp sriracha;
1/2 tsp ea. GPOP;
1 T nutritional yeast;
1/4 tsp cumin;
1/2 tsp smoked paprika;
1/4 tsp thyme;
5 shakes of liquid smoke.
that's the roll call, y'all, for huge flavor.
stir it up, and let it rest for at least thirty minutes-
although all day, or even overnight, is much much better-
if time is a luxxxury you've got, let it marinate- if it's not, it'll still work out pretty good.
don't worry about it, just add the things you like, and you'll be okay.
you got bread, so toast it-
i did mine up properly, browned and crisped on a griddle, with a drizzle of olive oil.
i had some cabbage, about a cup and a half, and i charred that up right afterwards.
you know it.
pickles are good on barbecue.
try it... i think you'll agree.
pickled onions?
man, listen- those soft supple pink ribbons are DELICIOUS.
it's like they were made for  this sandwich.
in fact, they were made for sandwich week.
one red onion sliced thin,
barley covered in cider vinegar,
with a dash of pink salt, a double-dash of raw sugar;
black peppercorns, mustard seeds, caraway seeds, celery seeds, coriander seeds,
and a lil baby bit of crushed red pepper flake-
brought up to a boil and simmered until supple-
if you mess that up, you're fired.
it's like fifteen minutes, man.
you can do it.
you want that new hottness?
well, you can HAVE that new hottness:

a slap of kale slaw-
shredded baby kale, and julienned orange and purple carrot,
plus some shaved red cabbage,
pink salt, black pepper, and a dash of cider vinegar-
shaken until wilted, and generously applied to the thing-
look, guys, a good sandwich can be the make or the break
between a great weekend and a gratingly weak-end.
i choose to supply myself with all the nutrients and nourishment i can possibly handle.
there's no room, and no time, to chump out-
i had two cups of ripped seitan, tossed in organic non-GMO cornstarch, salt, and pepper-
pan fried in olive oil, and liberally doused in sauce-
three times i hit it up with the sauce.
i dunked 'em and let it soak in, seared up the outside,
and then hit it again, and then again.
too much is the right amount,
and if you aren't trying to get lost in the sauce,
what the F* are you even doing with your life??
sandwich week is eight days long.
today is sunday, the eighth.
that means this is IT.
the last day.
and i'm a little disappointed.
yeah. i am.
i have MORE ideas for 'guinis,
but, like diondre cole says: we outta time...
who knows, though-
today could be a maelstrom of sandwiches,
in a plethora of buns,
making flavors and tastes and exxxplosions of culinary delight.
then again,
i'm craving sauce.
tomato sauce.
and i haven't done an unchik'n parm yet, have i?
this could be the way it goes down, duders.
i s'pose we'll have to wait and see.
i incubated a rhinovirus in my skull.
some effing A*-hole must've breathed the wrong way,
and i accidentally inhaled a real flippin' bummer of a head cold.
when i get sick, which isn't often, it's ALWAYS in my sinus cavity.
a pounding kettle drum of disease,
a mucousy matryoshka of compound calamities,
stacked and nested in increasingly irritating degrees of severity.
it has to get worse, before it gets better, i've heard.
i don't see why it has to be like that,
but if rules is rules, then so be it.
what i'm really wondering is: who the heck gave me this thing?
i suspect the filthy drunken dirties of portland, honestly.
i mean, if i'm assigning blame,
i'm handing all of it over to drunk people.
...because, F* them.
i'm snifflin' and drippin', sneezin' and coughin',
i'm also still making sandwiches,
and i'll be spreading these germs all day
while i'm tatzapping the crap out of the full day's worth of clients.
real life doesn't care if you're sick.
not one bit-
so neither do i;
never quiet, never soft.....

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