Thursday, April 11


i ate candy beans and cookies and a leftover pretzel,
and gummy fruit squares and i had a kombucha and a coffee.
y'know why?
because i do awful things to my insides when i feel awful inside.
my dad taught me that horrible counterattack back in the day.
if he had a stomachache,
he'd eat the spiciest spicy wings to blow out a backdraft extinguisher
like how we used to put out oil derrick fires back in desert warfare.
in this case it didn't work.
but then i had an idea-
DUMPS, dudes.
homemade sesame on sesame jauns, from the future.
i mean it.
check it:

with three sauces, and a whole lotta sprankles.
i made sesame magic tofu hottness for the filling-

in your food processor, chop up-
1 1/2 cups brussels sprouts;
2 large cloves garlic;
1 medium carrot;
1/2 cup onion;
1/4 cup pea shoots-
in a very hot pan, with a splash of toasted sesame oil,
fry up 1/2 block of crOmbled exxxtra-firm tofu with all that veggie stuff...
add 1/2 tsp GPOP;
black cracked pepper;
pink salt;
sriracha flakes;
2 T tamari.
it's tight and it's expert.
once you've got fillin', you need to start wrappin',
and to do that you need dumpers, duders.
in your trusty stand-up mixer, mix up:
1 cup + 2 T flour;
1/4 tsp sea salt;
2 T two-tone toasted sesame seed;
1/2 cup warm water-
kneaded up for 11 minutes until it's a smooth shiny ball of badassery.
rolled out on a floured surface pretty thin, and with a 3" steel circle cutter,
twenty-or-so circles should be able to be cut, all told.
y'ever make dumplin's?
a scoop of the stuff, folded in half, crimp the top, and rested for a minute....
then you fry 'em up in a blend of sesame and olive oil, arranged in three rows
on a wide af pan for a few minutes.
then you gotta splash the pan with a coupla tablespoons of hot water,
lid it,
and steam 'em until the water is all absorbed-
at that point i always turn 'em over one time, and sizzle one other side, too.
crisssssp fried skins is how you make real dope dumps if you're dope but not a dope.
that's no joke.

i added a few scallions and a bit of minced fresh cilantro to the pan, man.
that's a nicey-nice touch for sure.
plated up with supernutrient-dense microgreens?
wordimus prime.
that's how you make it magical, neighbors.
and then there's the sauces!
too much is the right amount.
anything less is sh!t-hot lies, bro.
we've got mae ploy sweet thai stickiness,
with cilantro and a dab of rice wine vinegar,
plus a drop of sesame oil.
we've got a sesame sriracha and soy sauce special, with seeds, and fresh garlic,
and a drop of liquid smoke.
it's hot.
and it's thick.
that's the way i like my dumps and their drip to be, buddy.
and the customary custom supersexxx dumpling douse-
2 T tamari;
1 T rice vinegar;
1/2 tsp sesame oil;
1 clove crushed garlic;
1 tsp agave;
1/4 tsp GPOP;
black pepper;
sesame seeds;
and even my chopperstixxx are the TRUTH:

thanks to my berserker baby-mama breezy
for those signature sexxxy stems, for sure.
i got three winks of sleep before i was awoken at 3am.
and i've been up since.
and i'm feelin' it, for sure.
the phone is ON and it's loud and i keep it near my head,
to make sure i hear it when it bingbongs...
when competent communication is kind of your thing
but you can't find the right words when they count the most?
well, then there's a lot to talk about when nothing makes much sense,
and also, not a lot to talk about, when nothing much makes any sense.
that's called a balanced imbalance.
symmetrical all-wrong alrights and lefts, so to speak,.
oh, stop.
it's wordplay, but it's not a game-
it's a series of feints and defenses,
thrusts of trust and sleights of honor and ego.
how much is enough?
how often is the bitter got to happen to make the sweet appreciated?
how hard a style do we need to rep to prove we're tough?
how soft a touch and how soft a head and how soft a heart do we need to have
to prove we care?
these are the questions i don't know the answers to,
and my insides are rebelling against me while ponder upon 'em.
there's bound to be a backlash backdraft against the backsplash
if much more of this continues.
i've got a gut feeling,
but it might just be the bubblin' trouble of a misspent day of eatin' feelings.
i'll know more after the break;
never quiet, never soft.....

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