days off are busier than days on.

jeez, neighbors,
i always thought that relaxing was what people did
when they had a whole day away from work.
relaxing.
like, y'know...
doing nothing but indulging in rest and leisure an' that.
sleeping late and laying around and taking it easy.
all of those sorts of things.
the problem of that sort of day is,
it grosses me out super hard.
after all,
i only have the one day away from work each week,
and i have so much to do within that short span of 'free' time
that i'm racing and chasing and filling up all the available space
so that it feels like as soon as i start really getting into full swing,
it's all already over,
and the day is dark before i've gotten nearly enough done.
i never get as much accomplished as i'd like to.
lazing away like a lump of unambitious bullsh!t is not on my to-do list.
i don't get down with that doo-doo buttery lackadaisical easy-does-it stuff.
i DO get my hungry belly filled up, however.
loud fresh hardness, for your face, is the way i work my wednesday schedule,
and that will forever include shark-gluttonous big-bite-and-swallow food times.
friends, recognize-
it's sandwich week,
and that meant making an important breakfast to start my busy day off right.
wait...
an important breakfast?
yep.
extra fancy day-off big action is obviously gonna play an important part
in the morningtime power-up,
and that makes breakfast doubly the most important meal of the day.
and by that i mean besides lunch and dinner.
c'mon.
anyway,
i had veggies cookin',
i had the food processor churnin',
i had treats bakin',
i had pastry bags pipin',
i had bread  toastin',
and all of that started happening the instant i rolled out of bed.
guys,
relaxing is just simply not invited to my wednesday routine.
there's too much to do,
and too much is the right amount.
let's get back to that breakfast, though.
buttered and pan-toasted ciabatta bread.
the crumb gets soft on the inside while the parts in contact with the pan brown up
all grilled-chee' style.
that's so nice.
and i got some new hottness i wanna share with y'all, too.
now, maybe somebody else already has something like this,
i don't know, and i didn't check.
i'm too busy being excited, and too excited to ruin my proud moment.
this is the freestyle Folk Life & Liberty Fortress vegan omelet sandwich,
and that's no joke.
check the teleport:

ohhhhhh yeah!!!!!
baby spinach leaves,
sliced roma tomatoes, for less squish and more delish,
and a squiggle of sriracha to take it to eleven?
yes, yes, yes to ALL of that!
you wish you were here?
i don't.
that means more omelet sandwich for me.
oh, stop it.
tell you what, y'want the technique?
okay.
i did what i do, which is fabricate something out of theory and thin air,
but i'll tell you all about it, since it was a success/
-
a block of firm lite tofu,
with the better part of the water squeezed right on out;
a few tablespoons of crushed flax seeds;
a punch of nootch;
a few tablespoons or so of cornstarch
(i'll be the first one to acknowledge i eyeball most of my measurements)
a glug of olive oil;
g.p.o.p.;
salt and pepper-
i might've used some turmeric to yellow it up, too,
if i'd thought this was gonna be such a banger.
i got surprised by how expert it actually was.
for serious.
i food processed it all together until smoothish,
and i let it sit while i sauteed some vegetables and soy strips to add in.
uh-huh.
that flax gotta activate, and the toppings gotta cook.
that's a happy time overlap, and i'm hapy about it even now-
i got my red onions, and soy beige bits,
and then some little, lovely, super-cute, and all-around elite chestnut mushrooms.
yup.
just look at 'em:

awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
kyoot!
and with a small chopped splash of cilantro, too,
the extras were all set to sit on top of my tofu omelet jauns.
375 degrees of fahrenheit heat, in a greased square baking pan,
for about twenty minutes,
and i got this:

so firm but so fluffy.
so light, but so hearty.
so dope i terrorized it all on it's own once the bread was all eaten up.
uh-huh.
i'm about that sandwich life, i didn't choose it,
but i can't escape it,
so i'm getting into it, deeper and deeper,
and i find it's a life i can live well.
i'm not even kidding a little.
***********
running around,
and road-trippin' to get ingredients,
and gettin' excited about dinner.
that's also what happened to my day off.
car rides and warm weather and spring in the air.
and also, wind in my hair, which is still my least favorite element.
plus,
the added benefit of about an acre of heavy half-melted snow sailed itself
off of my metal roof slopes,
and smashed down feet upon feet deep,
and feet upon feet farther away from my dripline than i'd have imagined.
damn.
coming home to a spontaneous drop-off in temperature,
and a bunch of hard-packed crap to move out of my path?
ew.
relaxing is for somebody else.
i've got things to do;
never quiet, never soft.....

sandwiches are the answer.

duders,
after a long day of tattooing and entertaining,
cracking jokes at others' expense,
upping the ante on cover-ups and
upping the ante on being revealing,
there's just one thing i'm thinking about when i walk
into the waiting arms of my heroic homestead in the hills.
uh-huh.
when i'm all up in the warm woodsly walls of
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, all i ever really want
is to put a sandwich in my hands, and shove it into my mouth.
in fact,
i needed a gob-stoppin' emergency brake for my motor-mouth yesterday,
and the only way it was gonna happen was if i got busy making moves,
and casting my cajun-style spell over some bread and stuff.
believe it.
neighbors,
it's sandwich week.
that's the best news anybody ever gets, really.
i did some of the fastest talking of my life, run-ons running away at the lips,
and slippin' past the tongue and teeth that might've mediated the content
of my discontented diatribes from start to finish yesterday.
yikes.
i knew a tasty piece of dinnertime decompression was what i needed,
and that's exxxactly what i got poppin'.
check the payday-po'boy-type teleport:

kaBOOMfire!!
cajun-seasoned tempura-battered deep fried king oyster mushrooms.
yup.
that's the fancy business.
i figured the secret universal plan was insisitent on this sandwich.
no, really.
my number one aide-de-camp, the cucch, suggested oyster mushroom po' boys,
and my client came in with a fresh-picked bag of 'em from a mushroom farm
the same mutha-flippin' day!
cultivated coincidences should not be ignored,
and since i think that's an unwritten rule....
...well, rules IS rules....
so i battered 'em up, in an icy club soda fizzed and smoky paprika'd mix.
y'ever seen a king oyster mushroom?
they are pretty dope, all on their own, and that's before they get assigned
by my deep fryer to accurately masquerade as shrimp, even.
teleport:

that's that expert sh!t, for sure.
but,
why is it a payday po'boy?
well, for starters, those 'shrooms ain't no joke.
also,
i used a fancy luxury salad blend for the crawnchy water on top.
shredded green and red cabbage, red onions and red radishes?
spicy, crawnchy, farty, and fresh!
plus, roma tomato slices,
and the big crankle-sliced pickle stackers.
on a fresh, perfect french roll, too?
c'mon.
that's no for broke-A* b!tches.
that's the hottness right there.
get another 'nother look, then i'll tell you all about that remoulade.
teleport:

now,
the remoulade is what took it to eleven, kids.
vegenaise,
chipotle ho' sauce,
smoked paprika,
cayenne,
scallions,
g.p.o.p.,
whole-grain dijon, and horseradish mustards,
and black pepper for miles.
guys,
i hope you know i'm not playin' around when i tell you that this
mother-F*er right here is the TRUTH.
sandwich week brings out all the really realness that ever there was
in the Folk Life active participatory lifestyle.
it's warrior poetry with knives and forks;
it's total wartime collateral devastation,
but with the clean-up only needing soap and water;
it's a contest of wills, pitting creativity against gluttony,
with waistline wastelands as the battlegrounds;
and most of all,
it's ALL really happening,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft...... 

mexican monday.

mexican monday is a great way to determine
who is really serious about their sandwiches,
and who is a frontin'-A* weak waterbaby talkin' noise
instead of makin' moves when it matters.
me?
i'm mashing up pink beans, and sauteed garlic,
three kinds of peppers, one sweet, two hot,
and red onions......
then i'm mixing in chickpea flour, and flax seeds, black pepper,
roasted cumin, oregano, dried ground chipotle pepper powder,
a little splashy-splash of chipotle hot sauce,
cayenne, smoked applewood salt, olive oil,
g.p.o.p., nootch, cilantro, and scallions.
it all goes down together in one bowl.
huh?
why?
because that's the way to make nachoooooooooo libre bean cakes.
mmmhmmm.
for realsies.
also,
i squished up some super-elite officially expert guacamole-
and at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, it doesn't cost extra.
word up.
i'm not a shystie sh!tbird, after all,
i'm a lightning-striking viking full of gratitude and generosity,
and i'm channeling the eagles' eggs nutrients when i'm cookin', kids.
kaboom.
anyway,
there's plenty more to talk about,
but first,
you silly little salad-snugglers should probably check the teleport:

all i can say, neighbors?
i hate every orphan in the whole world,
and i only believe in science....
anybody?
c'mon.
yeah.
so,
sweet cornbread, revived to a soft squish in the oven, and a healthy smear of that
chunky limey luscous gauc' on the bottom.
a pair of those pan-seared pink bean bombs on top of that,
and that's when we really get things poppin' up in here.
mmmhmmm.
vegan queso sauce?
i doo-doo that thickened nootchy smooch of yellow hottness.
no, really, i do.
and deeply-fried-up corn-breaded tomatillos?
c'mon, now, you secret tunnelers!!!
that's fresh.
a splash of salsa,
a few pickled jalapenos,
a dash of raw red onion,
and a sprig of cilantro?
sandwich week is the best,
and i think i'm getting to know what's up
when it comes time to get fresh with it, guys.
like,
when it's time to rock a funky joint?
i think i might be on point.
and then,
when it's time to rock a funky jam?
si, es verdad, soy el hombre.
but that isn't enough, is it?
(it never is)
so i've got us some sides of salsa and guac' with chips,
and refried black beans with black olives, too?
yuuuuuup.
i'm kind of all about big dinners, duders.
i mean,
i can't say it too often, can i?
nope.
you know what's up-
too much is the right amount.
that's all anyone can ever do.
more, and more, and MORE.
***********
remoulade.
mmhmm.
a little bit of dill, a lot of vegenaise, whole grain mustard,
horseradish, garlic and garlic and garlic,
and maybe even a little smoked paprika.
y'know, a remoulade.
yum.
it's a very necessary component for this evenings happenings.
yeah, very necessary.
but,
before i get to whisking all those ingredients into a spreadable sauce
of unsurpassed flavor, texture, color, and aroma?
i gotta get my breakfast on.
duh.
to that end,
i've got myself some buttered-on-one-side english toasting bread,
and some black pepper tofu,
and after that,
you've just gotta check the teleport:

crawnchy.
so crawnchy.
like, sorry about the roof of your mouth.
that's crawnchy.
breakfast is important.
that's why i put that chee' sauce to it,
and a bunch of baconesques,
and a slap of salsa, salad greens and cucumber stackers!!
i love sandwiches, b!tches.
truth.
*
i don't know if you know how intense my love of food is.
i mean,
when you're a vegan,
you're already kind of an A*-hole by default.
and if you're a vegan who thinks that's what makes you NOT an A*-hole?
holy sh!t,
you're probably the BIGGEST A*-hole.
ew.
the thing of it is,
i know i've set my challenge level higher than a cold-cuttin' omnivore.
so,
i've gotta get fancier and more expert,
without all the stinky cheeses,
or the three hundred kinds of sliced dead bits from a beefy bovine,
or any of that other other fleshy decaying doo-doo butter.
i don't wanna be a premade pee-pee-pistachio of pouty pastrami pants,
i wanna be a decadent dose of defiant dopeness,
doing what i do without death to defenseless dumb herds of gross animals.
yeah.
that's real.
also,
i don't wanna get paid to lose, dudes...
i wanna WIN.
and that's what i'm dyin' tryin' to do.
this is the way of the woodsly goodfellow,
and right now,
that's the best i've got for you;
never quiet, never soft.....

incidentals.

breakfast?
sandwich.
lunch?
sandwich.
dinner?
c'mon.
don't be dumb.
and then back to breakfast, with another whole 'nother what?
you guessed it.
sandwich.
the rules are there for a reason, kids,
and they're very explicit.
all sandwiches, all the time,
and while you can certainly skip a meal, (usually lunch)
you can't have a bowl of macaroni,
unless it's between a few slices of bread.
no substitutions.
it's definitely not that kind of party.
nope.
and yup.
sandwich week.
i can't believe it's back-to-back, on track,
and lip-smacking, soul-clapping, be's-in-the-trapping big action
all week long, after such a short absence.
it's good.
don't even get ideas that it isn't.
i LOVE sandwiches, and i'm gettin' a little teeny-tiny bit excited
for a whole new original gangster-good Folk Life & Liberty celebration
every day, and night, into the actual time-traveling future of daylight savings,
and past the fullest moon of werewolfen berserker kitchen ambition, too.
it's a pretty serious week up in the woodsly goodness,
and that's no joke.
yesterday,
i started out with this little A*-hole....
teleport:

yum.
toasted pretzel bread, tofu, blistered red onion strips, green pepper slivers,
vegenaise, mixed up baby greenery, cuke discs, and baconish roundies,
all for my early-rising facepiece to F* up so hard!
mmmmmmmmm.
and then,
because i felt like a long day was crying out, in advance, for succor and sustenance,
i also prepared this little piggy for market:

word!
ciabatta bread, and teriyaki baked tofu,
shishito pepper spears, pea shoots, shredded carrots, and sriracha.
that's the way to un-enervate a tiresome day of tattbombin', for sure.
and,
i think i also told y'all yesterday about all the pregame goodness goin' on....
right?
well, that's the truth.
neighbors,
check the pick-a-peck-of-pickled-pieces-type teleport:

yup.
and i did it in order, so i could keep my onions sweet,
and my peppers hot,
and not ruin either in the shiny briny bath of cidery salted soaking!
expert?
the proof is in the taste.
(and they taste great)
***********
the planning and the preparations;
the grocery store brainstorms;
the pots on pots on pots of stovetop-rockin' sauces and sh!t;
the toasting on two sides and oven-reviving pentosan activation;
all of it is really happening,
and all together, it's the right combination for a week of worthy warrior
feting and feasting and feats of furious food fighting.
this is it,
and it's good for you.
i hope you're celebrating, too, duders.
otherwise, you and your bowl of cereal might be A*-holes;
never quiet, never soft.....

it begins with sandwiches.

ugh!
neighbors,
there's an awful lot of awful included in every day.
i mean it.
a sh!tload of sh!tty sh!t-salad occupies many of the available hours,
and that's a hard style.....
but,
there's some pretty good stuff tossed in there, too.
it's sometimes so much harder to see it, but it's still there.
you just need sharper eyes, and sharper knives,
and everything becomes clearer.
mmhmm.
i tattooed a ton yesterday.
and i tattooed more, longer, and harder, than i would've liked.
that's my job, so it's what i do when i'm at work.
the thing of it is,
i've been held over into the afterhours allotment of time too often.
huh?
no.
i'm not being a baby.
i'll stay late, and i'll come in early, and i'll crush some tattzaps,
provided there's some sweet moolah waitin' at the ends of my efforts.
that's real talk.
but, duders,
let's be honest with each other.....
working is important, if that's all you've got.
i mean it.
a man without a purpose, no matter how banal, is worthless-
if you're a worker, then you'd better work,
otherwise, what is the point of you?
boom.
that's a hard style, but i know a harder one-
yuuuuuuuuuup.
i'm steady blastin' tattzzzzzzz, and that's cool, as far as it goes,
but, more importantly, and of far higher priority is another 'nother true fact:
it's sandwich week.
and hey, now, for really realsies?
sitting at the studio wiping blood and ink off of people is NOT as
awesome as eating homemade hottness by the bunful, buddy.
that's no joke.
my job is to tattoo doo-doo butter on b!tchbags and necktards,
but my passion is to F* up a holy helluva lot of expert vegan food.
das IT.
so,
when i'm sloggin' through an overdose of work,
and it's taking longer than i thought,
and i'm staying later than i'd like,
and i'm getting hungrier than is advisable for a moody vegetarian monster?
uh-oh.
that's none of it too good of news, now is it?
nope.
lucky for me, and for my fatbelly appetite
i have a dinnertime partner who loves the big action of invented events
almost as much as i do.
why is that good news?
because i came home to a sandwich already ready to go, dummy!
woooooohoooooooooo.
that's expert.
amber made the introductory kickoff while i was headed homeward.
the best sandwich is the one that's already waiting.
believe it-
and then check the teleport:

cilantro-almond pesto, (that's right- she made the fancy pants jauns);
herbed fried tofu steaks;
lettuce, tomato, and cucumber;
all on a lightly toasted half-loaf of italian bread?
c'mon.
showing up to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is always my favorite part,
but walking in to the smell of excellence?
that's even better.
***********
i've got prep to activate.
i don't have any pickled onions yet,
nor any pickled peppers,
and my sweet daikon-scallion-carrot blend, in brine, isn't going to boil itself.
i've got work to do, before work,
and i've got work to do, after work.
the important thing is- i'm working on it.....
...and all of it is really happening,
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit...rabbit...!

it's march!
fiiinally.
and it's a sunday.
and that's awesome.
yeah.
it is all of those things...
and what's the most important part of the first of the month?
that's right.
the magic mantra made of honey-bunny harmonic resonance.
the words that cultivate good fortunate coincidences.
the echo of the infinite that brings all the good stuff to bear.
believe it.
and i said it, and i said it, and i even said it.
i'm like that.
so,
that's a thing.
y'know?
you know-
rabbit! rabbit!!
and what's the most important part of the first of the month ON a sunday?
too F*ing right, neighbors.
today is the day.
the big action begins all over again.
it's my favorite eight day span of shark-style gluttony, too.
mmmhmmm.
rules is rules, fools.
it's sandwich week!
again, and already.
but, i mean, c'mon,
that's great news for people who love to put food between bread.
and if you aren't about sandwiches?
ew!
what are you?
an A*-hole?
don't be dumb.
so,
how am i celebrating my rabbity blabbity-blah-blah-blahs?
how am i tying that in to the sandwich rule?
well,
that's easy.
i'm making whoopie.
yes.
check the first-sandwiches-of-the-week-type teleport:

i'm all up on that ric flair flair, folks.
wooooooooooo.
wooooooooooo.
WOOOOOOOO.
whoooooooooooooooooooo-pie-pie.
verrrry chocolaty, very soft, very luscious circles of deeply dark,
decadent, delicious, dope devils' foodstuffs,
with a sugary explosion in the center.
yikes!
superwhipped creamchee' frothy foam-style frostin',
because that's incredible sweet, and incredibly expert.
y'feel me?
word up.
and it's a celebration up in this Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
like i told you before.
and it ain't a party without sprankles!
kaBOOMfire, for your face.
sandwiches, b!tches.
that's what it's all about.
recognize,
and respect the stacks.
*
breakfast?
obvi.
i haven't figured out a perfect pancake sandwich yet,
so in the meantime,
i'm bangin' out a quick b.l.h. on a bagel.
yep.
bacon(ish), lettuce, and hummus.
teleport:

mmmmm.
it's good.
***********
eight fancy dinners, in a row, between bread, starting tonight.
i don't know why i decreed this specific set of circumstances to be the
foundation of an epic onslaught of bread and pageantry,
but i did, and now it's a real thing.
my thinking cap is on, but mostly because i'm cold,
and i can feel the heat escaping through the blank spot on the top of my head.
awwwwwwww.
i've got all the tax return clients making their once-yearly appearances,
for all the terrible ideas and worse hygiene anyone could realistically want.
i'm not in love with the nest few weeks of earning and grinding,
but,
luckily,
i AM in love with sandwiches.
i am grateful for the time and the place that provide me with those movie checks,
but damn if i'm not disillusioned and disenfranchised by the particulars of
woodsly goodsly hustle and flowing.
yuck.
i'm doing all of it, as hard as i can,
and it's just not enough.
maybe, if i was suckier by a bushel and a peck,
it wouldn't be such a sinkhole of stinky sh!t-salad-
but, who wants to be lamer, just so less seems like enough?
i can't hang out with that waterbabied weak sauce.
nope.
not one little tiny bit.
good enough is never enough,
and too much is the right amount.
the object is MORE,
and today is seriously the chronologically-accurate day of days.
this is it, and that's that.
i'm not shooting for harder and stronger and faster and better,
i'm setting my sights on hardest, strongest, fastest, and best.
huh?
oh, no, i'm not trying to be inspirational.
i'm just talking about sandwiches;
never quiet, never soft

goodbye,again.

today is the day, neighbors.
the last one.
a perfect grid of calendar days,
sunday to saturday,
four times,
a self-contained month of lined-up and stacked days and days.
february is finished, finally.
how can the shortest month take forever to wrap up?
that's dumb.
the second half of the month really ate a pile of butts
and i, for one, am not even a little bit sorry to see it go.
besides,
tomorrow is sunday,
and it's the first,
and you know what that means, don'tcha????
yuuuuup.
rules is rules,
and the rule is very clear about what happens when a month starts on sunday:
sandwich week.
....again, already!!
i'm excited, for sure,
but,
i'm not there yet.
there are other other things to consider before we engorge our guts
on bread and stuff until we're stuffed.
*
winter can eat a pile of turds, kids,
but WE can eat a pile of tarts.
does that sound good?
duhhhhh.
i know it does!
and when it comes to tarts,
i go re-tart-ed!
ew.
but, really, though, in really real life,
i do love to eat tarts,
and i love to eat vegan chee'cake,
so,
when both of them are the same thing?
ohhhhhh SH!T.
i'm in fatbelly shark-glutton heaven.
check the teleport:

ka-BOOMfire!
vanilla chee'cake in an oatmeal graham-crackery coconut cookie crumb cup?
expert.
with a border of lemon creamchee' frosting edging up the perimeter?
expert.
with sugared strawberry puree blopped in a sweet red dollop on top???
expert!!
tarts are so small and cute,
and chee'cake is so dope.
i don't even feel bad eating three of them in a row.
*
i take my treat styles pretty seriously.
and i also take my breakfast styles just as hard.
y'know?
yup.
i'm still reppin' pancakes.
because panniecakes are the first-meal nutrient activators i crave.
that's a thing.
check the teleport:

a fat stack of mackin' pimp-slaps,
with my preferred blend of oats and coconut and double-butters.
yup.
they're exactly what takes breakfast into the future,
via woodsly goodsly yesteryearly portals.
weird?
maybe.
tasty?
definitely.
fat?
i wouldn't have it any other way, any day.
***********
so,
that's all there is to say about these last few minutes of february.
we had a strong start, though, didn't we?
and one heck of a sandwich week, too.
after valentine's, it got a bit messy, with weather and vacations and that...
but then we had to go and end it with a harried, hurried, slurred and slurried
flurry of fury at the finish.
that figures.
the thing of it is, guys,
i gotta come up with at least eight all-new elite sandwiches,
and i need 'em all to be instant classics,
dinnertime bangers,
and monsters of rock, even,
all before the clock strikes breakfast tomorrow.
it's never the tasks the world sets before me that i worry about-
it's the tasks i set myself that preoccupy my mind.
this is What Is,
and it's all really happening.
today is the last day,
but tomorrow is yet another day;
never quiet, never soft.....

to grandmother's house.

hey, neighbors!
i'm coming out swinging,
and i'm gonna kick your grandma's butt right off of her body.
ka-BOOM!
listen, man-
i'm on some time-travel future new hottness sh!t,
and i'm not trying to hear about that old busted jauns.
oatmeal cookies.
yup.
that's right.
oatmeal cookies.
the province of nanas, and babas, and grammies, and nonis,
and bubbies, and whatever other other old mama noisetalk you got.
i'm about 'em,
and i'm doo-dooin' it better than ever.
i realize that's a bold statement,
but allow me to explain.
chunky snickerdoodle-do doo-doo butterballs are the old guard.
i know, i know, i KNOW you love that cinnamony fresh-baked stuff
you remember.....
but,
this time, this stuff, right here and now?
THIS is truth.
check the teleport, then i'll tell you all about it:

mmmmmmmmm.
fattie-boombattie knobbly nubs of love!
what's the plan that makes these so 'schuan?
i'll tell you right now, buddy-
crushed vanilla-bean, oats, and vanilla soy yogurt,
steeping together in one bowl, so everything gets soft;
and butterish butts creamed up into a blend of raw sugar, cane sugar,
and brown sugar in another,
with a splash of vanilla, and some whole wheat flour, too?
that's smart.
huh?
yep.
good eyes on you!
there ARE raisins in there.
but,
that's not enough to dazzle my razzlers, y'all.
so i added chocolate chips, too.
too much is the right amount, every time.
friends,
the yogurt, unlike applesauce or some other egg-replacement,
stays moist,
so the cookies stay soft,
and when you've got oatmeal softies on the inside,
and a delicate caramelized sugar crusty crunch on the outside?
yes, indeed, that is some BOOMfire right there.
the thing is, without cinnamon, they ain't sh!t.
that's why i activated a double stripe of drizzly cinnamon-vanilla icing on top.
-----------
          dear grammie,
                 
                    your sh!t is obsolete.
                                           
                                             love always,
                                                   xoxoxoxo,
                                                          albie
-----------
i'm like that.
so what?
i've got my cookies,
and if you've got the appropriate orifice in place,
they are for the eatin'
i'll share 'em, too.
i'm not a jerk,
i'm just a blowhard.
there's a difference;
never quiet, never soft.....

chocolate? CHOCOLATE!

hey guys,
i've been thinking about chocolate.
a lot.
actually, i've been thinking about a lot of chocolate a lot.
y'know?
mmmhmmmm.
like,
how much chocolate, in how many different varieties,
can i blast into one brick of baller-A* barbarian beastmastery?
that's real.
so,
i've been busy, gettin' busy,
and mixin' in ALL the dark brown blasts
of cacao-derivative dopeness directly into the batter.
and that's the truth.
so,
i tried out a new technique,
using less tapioca, for a less fudgy cake,
and i also added in more baking powder and soda, too.
the results were fantastic, neighbors.
...seriously.
the batter was whipped into a frenzy,
but all the cocoa held it firm in place.
the lightest, airiest cakiest new hottness was the result,
and that's no joke...
the thing of it is,
i also added chocolate chips to 'em.
yup.
tossed right in there with that superloft fluffiness,
there are turbulent treats breaking up the smoothness
with a little semi-sweet semi-melted hard-style pebbles of deep, dark
melty buried candybar-barian awesomeness.
so expert.
actually, don't just read about it;
go ahead-
check the super-chocolaty-type teleport:

there's just SO much that it's too much,
and that's great news,
because that means they're perfect.
too much is the right amount,
and that's roughly the way i measured out the ingredients.
we've got the chcocolate chocolate chip cake,
and in the middle?
belgian chocolate creme filling.
delicious.
dripped over the top,
that's dutch chocolate ganache, drizzled in a grid, on lock.
it firmed up, but stayed soft.
no hard chocolate stalemates on my sh!t, y'heard?
word.
and then, on top of that?
cocoa frosting swirlyblops,
really aerated and super soft on the tongue.
that's that melty jauns, and that's good for you.
but, that's not all, y'all.
shavey german chocolate sprankles take it to eleven.
yeah!!
that's how it's done,
and that's what we do.
and by we,
i mean me.
i'm all about this creative bakery treat makin',
and i'm still excited to fire 'em up whenever
i've got two spare minutes next to each other.
it's nice to know that there is always a place for creativity in my day to day life,
even when my career has become a job,
and my hobbies have become the focus of my inspiration over my vocation,
and largely that's due to the site-specific location.
no?
duders,
i'm busy,
and i'm doing what i do,
and i haven't once tried to slow down or step off-
but,
being delicious doesn't matter if nobody is hungry,
if you catch my drift......
you're only as expert as your audience knows the difference.
styles stay hard,
and life is pain, princess-
anyone who says otherwise is definitely an A*-hole;
never quiet, never soft.....

in the nood(le)

noodoos?
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
mmmhmmm.
simmering soy sauce and rice wine vinegar,
and g.p.o.p. and ginger and black pepper and sesame oil
all in one bubbling pan, thinned out to a manageable consistency with H20?
mmmmmmmmmm.
i flash-fried some vegetables,
and by some,
i mean,
a big fat F*ing bucketful.
teleport:

yeah!!!
shishito peppers?
ok.
celery, and bok choy, and carrots, radishes,
mushrooms and huge discs of garlic, red onion,
mung bean sprouts, snow peas, and cucumbers?
you'd better believe i seared those mushrooms first,
and i blistered the peppers, too.
a light caramelization on the onions and the garlic,
a quick deglazing splash of broth and the carrots got coated in the remaining oil,
and all of that went into the big pot,
along with the bok choy and the celery already swimming in it.
i love this kitchen,.
neighbors,
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is my home,
but it's much more than a free-standing grandstand
for expert woodsly goodness.
mmmhmmm.
for realsies.
it IS really flippin' rad,
and i'm really perpetually propelled by my love of it to work harder,
try harder and do more to make it the best home i can imagine....
and,
it's the place where i make my magic happen.
word up.
there's all sorts of sorcery spellcast across the surfaces of this place.
and when it's wu-TANG wednesday,
there's world cuisine to activate, kids.
and i can't disregard that sort of standing tradition.
rules is rules.
that's a thing.
so,
with no time to spare,
and a hungry bellyhole awaiting me,
i assembled an avenging epic meal of
pan-asian one-pot noodoo bowl-me-over gluttony.
check the deep-deep-dish-type teleport:

kaBOOMfire.
what's up with the scallions and the cilantro garnish?
oh, you know-
just being exxxtra expert,
alongside the coolwater crunch of those radishes and cucumbers and sprouts.
(it makes the hotwater heat of that broth even better)
what?
oh, yeah.
there are huge ropy udons underneath all of that.
it wouldn't be a noodoo bowl without 'em, dummy.
duh.
wait,
kumquats?
too F*ing right, kiddo.
sweet and tart and awesome,
and y'know what else?
with a squeeze of that lime wedge and a bite of radish?
das IT.
but,
that's not all, is it?
i know you saw it.
i know you like it.
and if not,
you might actually be an A*-hole.
yuuuuuuuuup.
veggie dumplings on top???????
YEAH!
a heroic hole filled with awesome needs some pouches of perfection
sittin' all sexy an' that all up on the tippity-top.
if it doesn't go to eleven,
it just doesn't work.
too much is the right amount.
that's all i had got left to say;
never quiet, never soft.....

'cakes.

panniecakes, panniecakes,
eat so much i get a tummy ache!!!
neighbors,
i love 'em.
i'm psyched on pancakes every single time i make them.
and i make them often.
y'know why?
because that's woodsly goodsly griddle grizzlybarbarianism.
mmhmm.
yesterday,
i worked all day,
and i hung out with my buddy todd from across the mountains.
he's good people,
and we have good times,
and he gets it.
that's valuable to me.
he got tattzapped with some fun and interesting imagery,
we ate indian food,
he gave me a book (expert)
and we drove around puffin' on cigars and talking sh!t for a good long while.
why was i able to engage in such social activities?
one reason, y'all-
panniecakes.
mmhmm.
brown sugary slippery ones, at that.
check the teleport:

that's what's up.
before anything else,
i'm starting my days with big burly business,
flapjacked and stacked like i'm serious about getting fat.
yup.
y'know what was the best part of THIS morning?
that's riiii-iiight.
panniecakes.
teleport:

are you getting it yet?
pancakes = awesome.
not pancakes = who cares?
too much is the right amount,
and apparently, too often is good, too.
i give no F*s about responsible consumption.
i know that for the time it takes me to terrorize a heap of those batter-beaters,
i am one with the entire energy pattern of an infinite universe.
c'mon, now.
all points converge on pancakes.
that means that yesterday and tomorrow are irrelevant so long as there are
circles of echoing excellence covered in real maple syrup entering my mouth.
i'm ingesting the essence of the unending transformation of energy,
and i'm doing it with my mouth open while i chew.
ew.
i'll take what joy i can, where i can.
and these days,
that's the product of active participation and a buttered-up medium-hot pan.
my world is shrinking,
my waist is expanding,
my wasted time is unrelated to the waste produced by overindulging in pancakes.
all of it,
however,
is really happening.
that's how it goes;
never quiet, never soft.....