big.

sometimes i want a light bite of bread.
i mean, heavy-duty sourdough is dope,
especially for breakfast toasting in the mornings when i'm all alone.
but,
when i'm about to beat up a burly batch of bits and pieces,
in between a roll or a loaf.....
well,
that hearty jauns is kind of a ruiner.
i think i have a solution, and i put it into practice with my latest
breakfast-and-furious fuego-ago-go good time tofu morning meal.
huh?
oh.
french rolls, yo.
yep.
two of 'em, since the ones i've got are stuck together-
split down the center, buttered, and heated,
to await all the stuff that makes me happy.
tell you what,
i'll give you a free look at what i'm munching up this morning.
check the big-action-big-bun-big-breakfast-type teleport:

yuuuuuuup!
layers and layers of superior ingredients,
combined, cooperating, and reaching up to greater heights of
delightful deliciousness,
and activating that morning thunder and lightning...
neighbors,
i love sandwich week.
also,
i love pickled onions, and also pickled jalapenos.
that's real.
i added 'em on to my sweet sub,
because who doesn't want lovin' in the mornin'?
jerks, that's who.
oh, yeah, and i got those baby spinach leaves reppin' darkl leafy vitamin sh!t,
and crisp cuke discs doing what they do, too.
black pepper tofu,
crispy bacon-type brick-colored non-meats,
and pea tendrils all kept those pickled pieces company, too.
at least,
until i bit 'em apart like a voracious velociraptor.
i tore it up,
and i swallowed a lot of it without chewing, i think.
i get so excited about flavors and textures that i let my full-moony
animal appetites right out front,
and then there's so much less food so much sooner
than if i'd savored it like the professional appreciator i know myself to be.
yikes.
carried away is what i get.
i know it, i know you know,
and i know we all love that it happens too.
what's that?
yeah.
who wants to read about somebody responsibly and politely biting into
a meal like a civilized gentleman?
not me, that's for sure.
i doo-doo that noh-face devour-power glower stuff,
putting all of it in there as fast as i can.
i'm all about all the vegan eats going into my furnaces,
and all that fuel bringin' on new levels of new hottness.
enjoy that old busted ham and cheese, waterbabies-
me and my people have got all the hot fire happening over here,
and we're doing it with F*ing vegetables.
call me crazy, but i think that counts double;
never quiet, never soft..... 

mediterranean.

hey neighbors,
it turns out that jerusalem artichokes have got just about nothing
to do with either half of their name.
nope.
not one bit.
they taste just the littlest bit like artichokes,
if artichokes were pretending to be potatoes.
yeah.
spoiler alert:
they're not from jerusalem, either.
however,
they ARE tubers, and that's a name that i find amusing.
i can't help it.
little lumpy hard tubey bumplestiltskins,
hangin' out under the nom de plume sunchokes.
(don't put choke in the name of a food, dummies)
y'ever seen one?
they're like giant ginger, or turmeric,
or heck, even irises, when you dig 'em up.
the thing is,
sliced thin, and battered, they're soft, and juicy,
and real good to eat right up.
did i put chick pea flour, baking soda, salt, pepper, and cornstarch on mine?
i sure did.
did i deep fry those little F*ers until shiny golden brown on the outside,
and succulent and sumptuous on the interior?
obviously.
and did i add them to an already expert blend of european-style edibles?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
of course i did,
check the mediterranean-sandwich-type teleport:

BAAM!!
what have we got here?
the new hot fire for my belly is what we have, kids.
roasted garlic hummus,
roasted red peppers,
wilted arugala,
those no-jokes 'chokes,
caramelized shallots,
and a lemon-parsely-kalamata tapenade,
with just a little bit MORE garlicky hummus,
on an olive-oiled pan-seared mutligrain focaccia mini-loaf????
this dimepiece of dopeness actualy went to eleven, all day long.
i threw in a couple slices of 'choke au naturel, too,
for flavor and texture comparisons.
potato artichokes, guys, is a totally correct assessment.
anyway,
those purple alien spikes on the side?
kale sprouts.
reported to be a magic hybrid of kale and brussels sprouts.
i fugured i had to give 'em a shot, since i love both of those things.
i'll try one more time, but at first bite,
they're the combined traits of two terrific things,
and together they're nowhere near as good as either on it's own.
womp womp.
doesn't matter,
that sandwich had so much flavor, my recessive and usually dormant
southern italian genetics were kicked into gear,
and i wanted to extort funds and have people 'whacked' for several
minutes after i finished eating.
*
sandwich week brings out all the flavors,
and it brings out the all weirdness, too, it seems.
and with the added werewolf wildness calling from the full moon,
reflecting off of all this snow,
and bouncing back up into the atmosphere,
the entire woodsly goodness was blue-light bright,
and colder than it really needed to be.
sixty far-out fahrenheit degrees colder last night than the day before.
yup.
that's real.
and that's also real dumb.
my skeletal fingers haven't stretched out correctly in hours,
and i even sat on 'em to warm their little spindly spider-like digits
back up to a reasonable temperature, too.
awwwwwwww.
what i lack in immediate manual dexterity,
i'm making up for in manhandled hamfist hammering on all the pots and pans
that fancy dinners and big breakfasts beget.
ugh.
that's the part that isn't sexy, guys.
the cleanup aftermath of a wildman berserker sandwich blitzkrieg.
but,
it's what needs doing once the glory is gone,
and the party is over.
everybody wants to sing along,
nobody want to grab a broom.
that's the truth;
never quiet, never soft.....

peanut butts

peanut butter cookies are good for you.
i mean,
sure,
i'm not exactly 100% on the nutrition facts,
but i do know that when i personally put one in my mouth,
the whole entire world seems more positive.
so, anyway,
peanut butter cookies are at the very least good for ME.
yeah.
the thing is, neighbors,
that there's no room in my life right now for a single peanut butter cookie.
i mean it.
no,
not because i'm overwhelmed.
nope.
not because i'm dieting, either.
huh?
no way, man-
it's because of the rules.
one peanut butter cookie is not a sandwich,
and it's motherF*ing sandwich week.
c'mon.
you knew that already.
relax.
i know my way through the treats and treaties of the occasion.
i'm sayin',
i invented it, didn't i?
that's right.
so, i did what anyone would do,
and i stacked a pair of those p'nutty buddies on top of each other,
with some sweet stuff in the middle!
yeah!
that counts, and holy crap-ola are they doooooooope.
check the teleport already:

wooohooooo.
hand-flattened peanut buttery crisp edged cookies,
with that smooth center section of sugary softness,
times two.
that's especially important, because more is always the objective.
and in-between?
duders,
i took what was let of my whoooooooopie pie filling,
and added that all-natural peanut butt' business,
and a little extra confectioners sugar, too.
and then i whipped the holy heck right outta the whole bowl,
until it was as light as air,
as rich as a billionaire,
and as gentle as a mother's touch, provided your ma doesn't beat you.
ummmm........ uh-huh.
so, once i had all that going on,
like a little cookiemeal muncher,
i knew it needed that little something(s) extra.
and besides,
too much is the right amount,
and that's the truth every time i'm making treats over here.
i had some of that chocolate creme hanging out from yesterday's little whirls,
and i thought to myself-
hey, albie,
chocolate and peanut butter sure do go great together,
and a doodieblop swirl would be an awfully cute little topper to these beige biscuits-
^^that's pretty much exactly how it happened.
and then, i got carried away,
and ringed the brown with beige,
and made pooping butthole frosting circles on my treats, guys!
don't let that ruin 'em for you.
they still taste terrific.
oh,
and i hit 'em up with a dusty dusting of cocoa,
just for that first melty mouthful of magic on your drooly fool of a face.
yup.
the cocoa is subtle, but now that i've had it, i would be sad without it.
that's how it always goes.
you can't miss what you never had,
you can only want it.
damn.
***********
there's a helluva lot of things left to do.
in fact,
i think i've got enough sandwich ideas to keep going for some time after the
allotted eight day span is exhausted.
huh?
woah.
take it down, there, fella.
i'm just sayin' i could do that,
not that i will.
i mean,
real talk-
even though i think sandwiches are pretty flippin' dreamy,
i'd LOVE to tune up a pizza right about now,
but, alas, rules is rules.
and the decree stands.
i've got tattoos to do,
and i've got stories to tell,
but tonight's the night,
in the same way today is the day.
(it always is, and they always are)
so when it's done,
and the evening is swinging towards fully be-nighted darkness,
there's a very firm and fully-developed feeling circulating
through this Folk Life & Liberty Fortress that
falafel friday may just have to pop off in it's fully resplendent
and objectively expert operationally-activated hottness.
wouldn't that be lovely?
yes, i know.
and that's why it's all really happening.
y'know?
it has to.
otherwise,
what's the point of any of it?
hard styles and a lot of bread are all i've got;
never quiet, never soft.....

i like cute things, should i apologize?

neighbors,
while y'all were sleeping,
i was bright-eyed, albeit with big bags beneath them,
and i was in the kitchen, well-lit by moonbeams,
yet somewhat shadowy from the dawn's break.
and why was i creepin' around instead of sleepin' soundly?
because treats are an imprtant part of my morning routine,
and incomplete treats make me all anxious and uneasy.
that's why,
while you were catching zzzz's,
i was sifting and sorting and dusting confectioners sugar
all over the tops of my viennese whirls.
yup.
actually,
they're closer to danish butter-style cookies,
but they're pastry-bag-squeezey, in swirly circles,
kinda like those whirls...
so, i guess, they're sort of both.
what?
what's a royal dansk butter cookie?
didn't you have a grandma?
jeez.
look it UP, for cryin' out loud.
anyway,
i was awake, and i was dusting 'em,
regardless of what you name y'all choose for 'em.
the snowdrift softness of sweet finely crushed sugar
makes for a far more interesting view from the top.
ok, ok, sure,
the tops aren't very far away from the bottoms,
but that's only because they're teentsy-weensty bite-sized little babies.
awwwwww.
they are SO kyooooooot.
that's right.
and cuties are always invited to the party, people.
tell you what,
check the treats-can-be-sandwiches-type teleport:

yeah!!
butter-style,
with cornmeal and confectioners sugar in the mix,
for a hearty, sweet,no-joke texture,
crisp on the outside, but melty in your mouth.
mmmmmmmmm.
and in-between the two tiny cookie spirals,
there's dark chocolate creme filling.
it's rich, it's righteous, it's really dense and delicious.
the trick is to whip it up a whole lot,
so that air gets in there and makes it squeezable from out of a pastry bag.
i wish the batter was that soft.
i nearly carpal tunneled my way to arthritisville grabbing at the bag of dough.
ouch.
i figure it ALL costs something,
so a little investment in limp-wristed bad bones bakery business isn't that expensive
as far as reaping the rewards of these cute little chompables is concerned.
they're so small, i can't feel badly about eating one.
the thing of it is,
who the F* is gonna eat just one.
they're too good, and it's too easy not to overdo it by the handful.
i suppose that's the point, though, of making them especially delicious, no?
too much is the right amount,
and therefore the correct serving size is roughly too many.
i'm on it.
i only wish i'd made more.
dang.
***********
breakfast?
don't mind if i do.
i got some weird new bacon-style strips yesterday in my travels,
and i was eager to get 'em in my mouth.
nothing actually tastes like bacon to me,
but after twenty years of not eating it,
i just enjoy the sweet salty smoky flavor of anything that tries it's best
to be a dead-bodiless approximation of the original.
benevolent bacon?
hardly.
but that's what the folks at sweet earth call theirs.
whatever.
i ate it, and it did what it was supposed to,
especially when paired with a slab of seitan slapped up with those sesame seed
skins and sides from last night's cornstarched coating.
yummmmmm.
i even got some shredded lettuce going,
and a shmear of garlic hummus, for added powerhouse activation in my mouth.
check the teleport:

yep.
butter-toasted pretzel bread is pretty damned good,
and it went well with the rest of the sandwich, too.
the pretending-to-be-bacon got crispy,
which was a nice touch, especially since it starts out wet.
weird.
anyway,
there's plenty more sandwiches headed our way.
it's only day five, out of an eight-day stretch,
and that means the objectives have yet to be met.
more of all of it,
and all of it all the time.
that's what we want,
and that's what we'll get;
never quiet, never soft.....

surpises.

so,
i got myself some vegan naan bread.
i did.
i snagged myself a six pack.
ha.
but really, though,
it was a bag with six of them in it.
and that's a good number to keep in one place,
because they're thin.
honestly,
they look like slippers with the sides removed.
so i figured i'd need two to make a worthwhile sandwich with, y'know?
mmhmm.
i s'pose that's no big deal in the broader view of the bread world,
and actually,
that house-shoe shape endeared those floppy ovals to me in a way
that i'll wager a rounder shape wouldn't have.
see?
i'm warming up to new possibilities in the dinnertime domain.
i'm also warming up that naan, with the babiest bit of earthbalanced butterishness.
mmmmhmmmm.
and once that's ready,
it's time to activate the next in a long line of elite eats.
neighbors,
you know by now that i've not got much else to talk about, yeah?
yeah.
sandwich week has a powerful pull on my attention,
and my affections,
and my emotions,
and my appetite.
real talk.
and it's even more potent,
and hold more portents because it's also a full moon.
yup.
a howlin' mad hot-fire circlet of polarity-activating lunar flood tide jauns
is running rampant along the ramparts of this woodsly manse,
and there's a whole lot of holes being poked through my pores by the
night's late bright lights.
yikes.
all this not-sleepin' and mind-racin' and hard-stylin' has got me hungry, duders.
and when there's werewolfen berserker battle-beast business happening,
there had better be a burly source of nourishment to help change back
from bestial butthead to regular butthead by the dawn's early light.
guys,
i can't sleep,
but i sure can eat.
check the most-righteous-type teleport:

WORD.
you heard about that make-'em-say-UNNNGH na-na-na naan already,
but let me put the rest of that big daddy to your dome.
sesame-oil fried, and tamari-glazed shredded brussels sprouts.
expert on their own, but incredible as part of the team.
a crushed-sesame-seed crusted sesame-oil seared seitan steak.
and on the ones, this batch of seitan is the best yet.
i wish i knew what i did differently, but whatever it was,
i sure hope i do it again.
agave-sweetened chili garlic cilantro sriracha sauce?!
c'mon.
sweet and hot and spicy,
but with that cool cilantro rush sneaking around in there too?
you know this mutha-'ucka brings the thunder over here.
grilled leeks, lookin' extra sexy, and tasting all kinds of great,
because you can't have too much going on in the flavor profile.
huh?
oh, yeah, you know what's up.
rice-wine-vinegar-pickled daikon and carrot slaw!!!
i'm telling you guys,
you don't know about what's really expert 
until you've had a bite of this all up in your face.
i wasn't starving, i'd eaten some cookies, i was feelin' fat,
and other sorts of blah-blah-blah reasons for not being overly enthused
at first panful and plating of this tasty piece.
i just wasn't all that hungry.
.......until the first mouthful exploded my entire palette with big action.
holy crap.
i was very surprised that it was such a complete and total monster hit.
my inner werewolf was pleased,
but my inner workings are wide awake now.
i fell asleep crazy early,
in a semi-comatose overdose of being foodstuff stuffed,
and i woke up at the stroke of midnight,
and have been thinking about sandwiches and sleep ever since.
i love food,
and i love dreams.
i bet i even dream about food,
but i can't say i ever really remember what goes on behind my eyes
when they're rapidly moving to breakbeats inside my slumberland skull.
i can say i wish i was experiencing that at this moment,
but i s'pose there's always something to do around here at any hour.
it's all really happening,
even when none of it is what you'd prefer;
never quiet, never soft.....

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