it's the last day of march, and unless this little itty bitty new bambino of ours
decides to debut today,
it's lookin' like we're gonna be showered with april baby times.
that's exciting and frightening and all that stuff, for sure.
what's even wilder is that this month has been more like a forced march,
and less like a blowing lion or a gentle lamb.
thirty one days of snow and cold and mud,
with the lightening and brightening we know and love doing little
to raise temperatures or morale at all.
but this is it.
the last day.
the bye-bye bow-out for the third month of the year.
already, we've completed a quarter of the annual procession.
next up- babyheads, and tax days, and rain forever and ever,
and mud season.
we have a whole season of woodsly goodsly wet earth,
complete with ruts and puddles and mess;
not to mention the tracked-in sand and grit and gravel that
sticks to everybody's feet and comes inside to visit the cracks and crevices
and corners of every entryway.
in april in the mountains, every room is the mudroom.
meanwhile, it's foggy outside, and i'm groggy inside,
and the oven is roaring while bread bakes and potatoes roast.
rules is rules,
and the charter for Folk Life & Liberty says that we don't waste
the heat from the hotbox whenever there's MORE treats and eats to make.
that's a thing.
anyway i got home from a hand-cramping day of tattzappin'
with emptiness resounding in the hollows of my whole entire entity.
i knew i could fill one of those cavities with something good,
(although a full-bdy cavity fill-up was NOT ever considered, thanks but no thanks)
my bellyhole, though, needed some carbohydrate comforting,
and i went full starchmonster on the evening's repast.
check the self-suffocating focaccia feast-type teleport:
HEAVY DUTY DELISH, DUDER!
i made some expert vegan focaccia-style bread'zza,
with foods on top.
my oven was up at 460℉
the 9" x 12" pan was oiled and ready, with high walls and a warm bottom.
i had slices of skin-on red potato roasted up;
red onion wedges slivered all sexxy-like;
sweet tomatoes sliced all nicey-nice;
miyoko mozzarella good and grated for maxxximum melt;
and smoky, spicy chick peas, pan-fried in a splishity splash of olive oil,
and coated in GPOP and smoked picante paprika and black pepper.
it baked FORever, too.
the oven had to overcompensate for the thick walls of that pan,
and the fluffy dough was in no hurry to brown up.
...but when it did?
the full force of fresh-to-death flavor exxxploded upwards and downwards and
soothed my sour mood and filled the literal void in my gut.
even if there was still a figurative hole, i was physically uncomfortably full,
so i could experience two kinds of discomfort at once.
the dough was good, too:
1/2 cup hot water;
1/2 cup s'milk;
1 tsp sugar;
1 pkg fast-actin' yeast.
bloom it in your hook-armed stand-up mixer and when it bubbles add in:
1 cup king arthur bread flour;
1 cup semolina flour;
1/2 stick (4 T) vegan butter;
1/2 tsp bread machine yeast;
2 tsp sea salt.
you'll want your dough jusssst to the dry side side of too wet.
so, sticky, but not sloppy.
and it needs to rise twice.
once until it gets biggish,
and then again covered in light olive oil once you stretch it to the sides of your pan, man.
let it rise while the oven heats up.
and don't drop your topping on it until you're ready to bake.
i think i mentioned that oiling your pan is essential.
and don't be afraid to garnish it with fresh green things.
i think the parsley sprankles made it look much prettier.
i did NOT put fried garlic on there.
i thought of this more as food bread than pizza, so i figured i could skip it.
if i'd been more on point and less distracted,
i'd have toasted a LOT of sesame seeds and used those for sure.
it's not the last time i'll be rockin' out a pan of hottness,
so next time, i'll be sure to do what needs doing.
and so we get ready to be fools tomorrow.
fools rush in.
i sometimes do that.
however, i also take FORever on occasion and somehow still end up looking foolish.
coming and going, slow or fast, i'm a old fool forever...
we do NOT suffer fools gladly, however-
so while we move fast, we also get furious immediately afterwards.
so i s'pose we'll see if this tricky little baby shows up tomorrow,
or if the second is the day that breezy is contractually obligated to begin contractions.
she's got traditions to uphold after all....
i'm betting on the 7th as the big day.
that's a lucky number, and april seventh is 4 and 7 and that makes 11,
which is pretty F*ing expert, too.
whenever it happens to happen,
it's going to be soon.
ready or not, foolish or otherwise, showers or sun,
whatever comes next is exactly what's supposed to-
the secret universal plan is unfolding in ceaseless origami creases,
and the shape of things to come is a series of right angles and right actions,
in close proximity, creating curves and arcs of light and narrative.
we're moving forward into the unknown,
and we act like we be don't even knowin'....
but i think we're a little bit smarter than we've been led to believe;
never quiet, never soft.....