jinxed.

chocolate-covered chocolate oatmeal chocolate chips cookies,
with ground up big-block little bits of chocolate sprankles???
yep.
stacks on stacks on stacks on stacks on stacks,
making sweet lovely lovin' exxxplode all up in my tastepiece.
mmmmmhmmmmm.
you go ahead and do what you want, today, neighbors,
but i'll be right over here getting cookie monstrous with my mouth.
that's real.
recognize-
it's another 'nother friday the thirteenth,
and once again,
all the misfortunes that favor the meek, weak, mincey,
and diluted diaperbabyish duders who don't get loud fresh and hard,
are coalescing into a bad-luck b!tchslap for all those unworthy,
watered-down doo-doo butterballs who line up for discount tattoos an' that.
ohhhhhh, daaaaaaaaaaammn.
i said it.
it's documented.
i meant it.
the bold and the not-so-beautiful, forever,
but never ever ever the bargain basement bottom-rung basic jauns.
nope.
no way.
keeping it ugly AND dope means staying 100 percent on that pricepoint, peeps.
no coupon-clippin' sh!t-sippers allowed at the tatzap studio,
not even on a thirteen-dollar holler all over this friday.
i can't do it, and i'm not doin' it, and despite today being the day.
it's not flash and fun and whatever else.
it's full-price friday the thirteenth,
and all you're ever entitled to is a free look.
(that's IT...and if you don't know, you'd better ask somebody.)
also,
you can have one of these expert mutha-'uckers right here, too.
teleport:

kaBOOMfire!
i mean, c'mon.
when you put the melty dark dark darkness in chocolate form
on the chocolate and the oats?
it's good.
but when the chocolate and the oats already have chocolate chips all in 'em?
it's better.
and then,
when those soft, chewy, chunky, oaty nuggets,
with their cocoalicious lusciousness,
and their chompably choice chip scenario,
mix in with that spread-thick chocolate frosted flav',
AND those shaved-off of the bar truffle-type shavin' sprankles????
everything inside the sphere of influence
that this cookie-friday's activation provides becomes
F*ing expert all day long, and definitely jinx-proof, too.
-
they're just so soft, and despite all the knobs and knurls of the oats,
they're pretty dang smooth, too.
and, no jokes, that melty chocolate goodness on approximately half of each cookies,
when bitten at a half-and-half ratio by those little enamel heroes in your gums?
that's when the flush of success meets up with, teams up with,
and gorilla-press powerbombs all the doubts tingling on the tip of your tongue.
for real.
it all comes together sometimes, and when it does?
mmmhmmm-     damn it feels good to be a baker.
yup.
***********
it decided to stop being so windy.
but,
it also simultaneously decided to be super flippin' cold again.
the thing is,
i'd rather have cold temperatures than sun and wind.
i am not about that blown air business.
not at all,
not one little teeny-weeny tiny baby bit.
so,
i'm bundled and huddled,
and as i'm typing my skeletal fingers are going purplish with cold circulation woes,
but,
i've got cookies and hot tea,
and i've got friday the thirteenth to dominate into a coma,
so, really, when the bigger picture is viewed from afar,
i've got too much to do to worry about the weather.
today is the day,
and it's unfolding along the sidewalk cracks and shatterlines of broken mirrors;
never quiet, never soft.....

some art.

neighbors,
i don't know why i make robobotronic skulls.
i really don't.
i grab a marky marker,
and that's just what i get.
check the teleport:

mental medicine,
in crappy craft paints on the back of a soda case.
mmhmmm.
i started it yesterday, to combat a case of bad vibes and worse company.
no joke.
i only dealt with sick folks and scritchers all day.
y'know about scritchers?
if they're in your walls, it's probably squirrels or raccoons,
and you can call an exterminator.
if they're walking like people, don't be fooled-
they're sketchy creatures,
and they are trying to ruin your day, each and every time.
ew.
that sort of sh!t is not my favorite,
but,
i've never really expected to play only to my strengths,
AND get my preferences catered to.
i'm not a spoiled princess, i'm a stump-grinding gargantuan general
in the worthy warrior poetry corps, and therefore,
i just do what i do, and endure all the doo-doo butter in-between.
stoic?
hardly.
fodder?
absolutely...
good news is wasted on good storytellers, guys.
and smooth sailing isn't worth retelling.
that's real.
also,
i do a lot of tattoos,
and once in a while, i maybe even don't hate one of them.
look at this one:

mjolnir.
viking sh!t.
i'm about it.
and this big tree?
teleport:

i'm guessing will look a lot less megadeth
once it settles into the skin?
i did it to a nice boy, as his first foray into tattzaps.
also,
my buddy todd got a buddhist jauns a little bit ago,
and maybe you'll want to see it?
check the teleport:
                                           
yeah.
om my goodness, and an auspicious knot, too.
so,
i'm not doing crazy big involved anything,
unless you count making sandwiches in the euation.
then,
i'm very big into big action,
but only after i finish doing some not-so-enormous tattoos.
there's always more to do,
and there's never enough time.
i'm trying to fill in every blank space with effort and attention,
and while it gets trining and tiresome and tedious-
too much is the right amount,
so i've got to do what needs doing.
.....and it ALLL needs doing;
never quiet, never soft.....

blue and purple.

there's not a whole helluva lot that's all that blue about blueberries.
mostly, you get reddish purple when you do stuff with them,
and i just did some stuff with them,
so i'm pretty damned near positive that that's a thing.
uh-huh.
sometimes,
when you get a day off,
and you had a disappointing day before that,
so really you had two days off,
but one of them was spent mostly at work,
or at job, since there's no work happening,
you absolutely have to activate some hottness in your life.
and what's hotter than a fresh-baked and then cooled down chee'cake?
actually,
one thing is hotter-
a chee'cake you don't have to cut a slice from, or share with anyone else.
yep.
a personal chee'cake is the hottest hottness that a dirty doubled day offish,
being officially awful offal of the most odious sort,
can provide to soothe the savage stormswept windy wednesday woes away.
what?
you don't get it?
ok.
hold on-
i woke up early and made blueberry vegan cheesecake tarts.
ok?
jeez.
sometimes i wonder why i make so many words into a story,
when you just want a picture and some liner notes.
ugh.
gross.
anyway,
there's more to the story,
but first,
check the teleport:

yeah!!!!
freeze-dried blueberries are the key, kids.
gound up and powdered down and added in to everything-
little bits of dusty sparkle-magic,
giving you that expert fresh fruit flavor for your face.
woooooooooooord.
so,
we gotta get busy, and therefore, we get busy,
because what needs doing gets done.
rules is rules.
and we get it done, all busy businesslike an' that,
with vegan creamchee', and cornstarch, and tapioca,
and blueberry jammie-jam, vanilla extract, lemon juice,
confectioners sugar, and that blueberry fruit powder power,
we have ourselves a stovetop chee'cake filling that kills it in the
first bite, dominates it by the second,
and terrifies those tastebuds on the third.....
then, you just feel so satisfied, and a little sad.
sad?
obvi.
because there's no fourth bite to be had, neighbors.
c'mon.
they're tarts for cryin' out loud!
and yes, y'all-
there's more going on here, clearly.
a graham-crackery, buttery, knobbly oatmeal cookie-ish cup
holds all of that soft, sweet succulence in place,
and a fringe of blueberry creamchee' frosting fences in those
wild maine blueberries, with just a hint of lemon tartness,
before the final goobieblop of bloobin' big business finishes off the top tier.
mmmmmmmmmmmmm.
tarts are dope-
they just hang out, and be delicious
and sometimes,
that's what we need.
*
it's been windy,
which is to say- the worst.
all kinds of sun gets ruined by blustery blasts from the north,
and really,
all the sun in the world can't compete with the howl of the air,
or the bite it brings along with it's bark.
yuck.
wind can eat a weird butthole, as far as i'm concerned.
what's more, the wind brought back the hard cold crap weather,
and that's just not ever invited.
outside of the actual atmosphere trying to trick me,
ii have to say,
i made a lot of treats, and i spanned a lot of time,
and what's more i ate and ate and ate, and everything i ate was delcious.
especially all the words.
huh?
oh, yes, duders- i ate so many words.
hmm?
no.
i didn't eat MY words, i spit those out like lavaflows from my lips,
smacked and licked like lightning-strikes,
and thundered out in blowhard bellows......
i ate other peoples words, by the pageful.
i've been crushing the nerd-book game these days,
which makes me believe there will be a lot of barbarian art getting made
in the near-immediate future.
a lot of that depends on how destroyed my hands get from tattblasting all this
craptastic crummy crumbling crud i'm suddenly gift-horsed with.
trojan-type filling awaits my days,
where movie checks seem make-able,
but more likely, stabby stabulation will be my real reward.
yikes!
good or bad,
it's ugly, it's dope, and it's all the truth....
what else?
it's all really happening.
that's just the unfolding secret universal plan giving hints and highlights,
and reminding us all that it takes a whole lot of bitter in order to appreciate the sweet;
never quiet, never soft.....

what comes after sandwiches?

pee eye zee zee ayyyyyy!
PIZZA.
why pizza?
because it's the best one.
that's a thing.
neighbors,
i had that sourdough, and it was begging to get topped with all types
of terrific treats.
and that was exactly what i had waiting and ready,
since coming hot off of the heels of sandwich week
i had ingredients lined up by the binful in the refrigerator.
that's fortuitous circumstance, is it not?
well, yes, it is,
but it's also a cultivated culmination of carefully collected
and specifically selected vegetables and roots and leaves an' that.
i doo-doo that picky pickings kind of sh!t when i'm at the supermarket.
mmmhmmmm.
i got my baking stone in the oven,
i got the convection setting selected,
and i got all the good stuff lined up on the assembly line.
that's my favorite part.
all the constituents, mise en place'd in bowls,
waiting for their turn on the rock....
it makes me happy when i see all the lovin' i'm heaping on all of those pies.
yep.
i mean it.
pizza is my favorite, and pizza is what i wanted.
therefore,
pizza is what i had.
check the teleport:

wu-TANG!!, my dudes....
three kinds of 'za,
three fresh lopsided discs of crispy crust, soft centers, and splendorous toppings.
i like making pizza,
and i LOVE the staggered timeline i've perfected with experience over time.
mmmhmmmm.
the next pizza is ready to get shoved into the oven right when the first one comes out,
and so on.
i could maybe do that all night, if i had to,
but vegan pizza is a heavyweight champ in the dinner department,
and three is really the magic number.
the last slice hurts a little, is what i'm saying,
but don't think i'm up here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
simpering over my saucy circles whilst being a little diaperbaby.
no way, kids.
i brought the appetite for (self)destruction to the table,
and defeated the challengers one slice at a time.
expert.
first up?
teleport:

underchee' sauce, daiya chee', arugala, caramelized sweet onions,
and that weird bacon.
i think the verdict is in on that stuff.
...we won't be stocking the larder with it, and it's services are no longer required.
awwwwwwww.
anyway,
it didn't ruin the pizza, but i'm glad it went first.
that way, we could upgrade our experience with even better bits on the next one.
which was a weighty beast, to say the least....
check the fat-piggly-wiggler-type teleport:

underchee', sauce, spinach, daiya chee', seitan and beige-ish strips,
more onions, and baby broccolinis, baby!
yummmmmmmm.
i love it when the dough hits the stone, and the cornmeal underneath
lets it roll just the littlest amount back, all slidey off of the peel.
a fluid motion that takes less than a second, but feels so great every time.
yup.
pizza nuances.
i get into that sort of stuff.
so?
so, there's still one more.
check the double-dough-dopeness-type teleport:

yeah!
mismeasuring the thirds made this one exxxtra-fat.
and that means extra squish in the middle of that crawnchy crust.
that's a nicey-nice way to end a pizza party, isn't it?
you betcha.
brussels and grilled leeks,
on all that chee'-styled and sauce-embossed foundation stuff.
we get it poppin',
even when it's just pizza.
y'know why?
it's NEVER just pizza, it's active participation,
and it's what this place is all about.
*
long days and a full schedule are good,
but they aren't always great.
here's the thing-
i've got lots to do, and very little of it is going to be rewarding.
that's a hard style. friends-
when you've got plenty of requests for your time and attention,
but only on the biggest batch of bad ideas and worse skin
that the area can vomit up from the hills and trails, trailers and parks.
....yikes.
-
why do i blog?
i feel a need to communicate, i suppose.
why do i blog about food?
i have complete creative control over all of it.
pick your spots, i guess,
and make the most of those minutes....
it's all really happening,
but i'm focusing on the parts that fuel and fulfill
my Folk Life mountain manly dreams-
turns out, that's mostly pizza;
never quiet, never soft.....

i love eating food.

what can i do, duders?
i'm about that food love, and i'm about that cooking life.
y'know?
that's not something that everybody is into.
no, really.
plenty of people say it,
but they aren't about it,
like for really-really 'bout it 'bout.
that's because talking about stuff is easy,
but doo-dooing that freaky sh!t is something else entirely.
c'mon, neighbors-
this is real talk right here.
just yesterday,
i realized something, in passing,
during a conversation with a couple of big people.
yeah. big people.
like, not only are they adults, but they're also pleasantly plumpy dumplings
who certainly didn't reach that size from exercising too much, y'feel me?
word up.
i said i love food,
and they said, we do too.
commonality of interests is a welcoming notion,
and i took that as an open invitation to discuss sandwiches,
since i was coming in hot off of a superfire masterwork of eighth-day
weeklong love-affairing with all that breadsly embracing an' that....
imagine my surprise when these folks hit me with a litany of stuff they don't like.
as in-
beans: no.
sauce: no.
'weird' bread: no.
tofu: OBviously not.
seitan: they're religious,
and we know how it sounds when you say it without spelling it, don't we?
and on and on and on.
as our initially engaging, but quickly degenerating conversation continued,
one of 'em mentioned that it's hard to cook for 'up-here' people,
because they don't use spices.....
honestly,
i think it goes deeper than that.
they don't use ingredients.
guys,
maybe i'm just a mid-level food snob, with first-world aspirations towards
entitled vegan magic munch-ups on my mind,
but it seems pretty basic, and reeeeeeally budget when ranch dressing,
ketchup, and mustard  are the only three things you add to grilled chicken,
mac'n'cheese, and burgers!
that's so weird to me,
especially when these mincey necktard mutha-'uckers ask me what i eat,
(so often that it's tiresome and banal at this point)
and scowl through the first five things i name.
that's pretty lame,because in the reality of our respective versions of food lovin',
they have a waaaaaay shorter list of acceptable ingestibles than i EVER have.
here's what i'm getting at-
i LOVE food.
and i cook up all this fancy hot business because i genuinely appreciate
the flavors and textures and the ethnic eccentricities of the wider culinary world
beyond the borders and limitations of the generic boring fat american palette.
cooking, and creating, and appreciating are all part of that lovely love-in.
that's no joke.
so,
as i sat there, digesting leftovers, and digesting their position on food,
based on their far-less-specific version of words and meanings,
it hit me.
i love food, and i love eating food,
but these sucka-fools and their teeming contemporaries aren't about it at all.
they just love eating.
the less it resembles food, the more they want.
and that's pretty beat, in my opinion.
an unfortunate attendance to primitive needs,
indulgent. but not luxurious,
with quantity over quality over substance over information over effort.
i mentioned at the beginning,
i'm about that life,
and that life calls, and screams, and hoots, and hollers, and demands
active participation and involvement in the process and procuring of all
the expert elite luxurious luscious delicious present and attentive
accountable excellence that worthy warrior poetry is composed of.
you are what you eat, i s'pose,
and i want to be a symphony of everything better than anything else.
is that crazy?
maybe.
is it dope?
you bet your A* it is.
how did the conversation end?
poorly.
no surprises there.
the final comment went something like this-
how can you not understand what it is i do,
when i cook and eat more kinds of food, more types of ingredients,
and honestly, more of all of it than than you do,
even though i don't eat ANYthing you do?
too much is the right amount,
but there is one other other rule that supersedes that one by an order of magnitude:
just be dope, or F* right off.
yep.
when it comes to Folk Life & Liberty
rules is rules;
never quiet, never soft.....

the grande finale.

viva libertad,
and viva la revolucion!!
yeah!
i'm so super sad about sandwich week being over.
it seems like there could've been a few more days,
like, an eight-day week wasn't nearly long enough for all the bread that's
sitting pretty and unused on my kitchen block island countertop....
but,
rules is rules when all is said and done,
and overstaying one's welcome is never a good idea,
so, leaving while we still want MORE of all of this
only makes us look forward even harder to the next time.
i mean,
i've been told, (usually by the ladies)
that if it happens every day, it stops being special.....
awwwwwwwww.
now, i don't know if i'm buying into that bullpoop,
but i AM excited to eat a flippin' pizza or something tonight.
for realsies.
the thing of it is,
we still have that grande finale super-explosivo deluxxxe sandwich to talk about.
i baked off a batard of roasted garlic bread,
and cut it up, and open, and let the crust breathe, while i slathered on some underchee'.
yeah.
underchee', an un-turmeric'd batch of whiter than usual rinotta-be-kidding-me
cashew and tofu cheesy spread.
mild, for the most part, with a subtle sharp bite-back smack towards the back-end.
mmmhmmm.
cayenne and garlic know how to party, people.
underchee' has earned itself an open-door policy in this house,
and it's definitely a good base coat for building a new and improved
ultimo-vegan version of a classic sandwich
as the headliner of this expert endeavor.
y'know?
no?
well, you do now, neighbors.
check the vida-folklorico-y-fortaleza-de-libertad-type teleport:

a  level-eleven elite cuban sandwich for the people?
woooooooord.
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t, y'all,
and i do it pretty well, at that.
i mean, c'mon.
smoke-and-soy-sauced seared homeade seitan strips,
plopped in a pigpile on top of some of those crunchy pickles?
that's already a great treat for all the waiting tastebuds and tongue-buddies
that let their papillae do the sensing.
ew.
it's true though. that would've been a good sandwich on it's own,
if i was a weak-sauce worsener of the limpest and laziest veriety.
but that's not invited up in here,
and the objective is always to do it harder, louder, faster, bigger,
and way better than whatever else has happened so far.
good enough is not enough,
and that's no joke.
so,
with that in mind, and in place of the yellow mustardation,
and in addition to the under-style of chee', there's a drizzle of chee' sauce, too.
yuuuuuuuuuup.
a slippery sloppy saucy boss-b!tchslap, adding flavor and color,
and cementing down the next layer of this big mama-jammie-jammer.
which, of, course, was homemade soft style ham-roast.
yeah.
obviously.
it's a cuban-style banger, bro.
get with it.
silken tofu made it so moist, at first,
with spices,and smoke, and cashews, and wheat gluten,
tapioca to soak up some water,
better'n'bouillon to boost the flavor beyond a basic g.p.o.p. infusion,
gonzo garbanzo flour for bulk up front, without the density of uncut seitanism,
it's a nice variant of my o.g. recipe,
and one i'll use again when a softer touch is called for.
i can use finesse when i have to,
i just generally prefer not to, unless there's sandwiches in the balance.
uh-huh.
once all of that was in place-
the pickles and the seitan, the roast and the two chee's-
i knew we needed some exxxtras and some fancies.....
so i added in red and green cabbage, cut with fresh-picked basil.
daaaaaaaaamn, that was a good idea, duders.
a cool refreshing crawnch, right when all that hot, gooey goodness
threatened to overpower the whole mouthful!
perfect timing, and great news for anybody who had a bite, too.
yum.
and, of course, mustard IS a necessary ingredient, so we blew it up,
and threw down a knife's worth of horseradish dijon jauns.
yes, yes, yes, YES, YES!
a cast-iron pan, hot as heck, and a cast-iron press, sittin' on open flames,
getting ready to griddle that dirty tube into the legends of sandwich history
were also in play, and ready to rock the party, hard.
all we needed was a pat of butter, which we had,
and those mutha-F*ers took off, and blew up,
and made the whole day and night the best time-traveled span in a while.
i love a good sandwich,
and i love a good sandwich week.
this one was even better than the last one,
and that's the truth.
and what's even better is that we had three sides to sample in between bites!!
on the ones-
that green pepper, poblano pepper, yellow onion, scallion, cilantro,
lemon AND lime juiced guacamole???
pure uncut kaBOOMfire, from the future....
and those black beans, souped up and soupy with all extra veg and that?
(mixed together, your world is shook and shaken and probably improved)
not to mention that adding vegenaise to the cabbage from the sandwich
cooled the profile of that basil's chilly new hottness even MORE.
y'all already know how much i love MORE, don't you?
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
DAS IT!
***********
adios, sandwich week.
i miss you a little already.
i woke up thinking about you,
and while my cinnamon raisin british muffins with peanut butter were tasty,
i didn't even put 'em together.
i open-faced  'em, and ate all four halves.
it just isn't the same when it's over,
and i may need an interim meal to make myself feel better.
i think about food while i'm doing everything else,
and i think about food even when i'm eating food.
i can't imagine spending all my time doing one thing.
but i can imagine spending most of my time doing something AND
thinking about food.
i like writing about it,
talking about it,
imagining it,
making it,
and especially eating it.
when did my life become such a pompous and primitive plotline?
really.
it's almost all about food,
with artistry and dialogue added in just to accentuate the basic theme.
weird.
i guess i'm surprised,
but i'm not displeased.
it's all really happening,
even when it's just adding more skills to the long list of competent capabilities
that lack day-to-day monetized relevance to my Folk Life in these mountains.
ugh.
hard styles won't stop because a themed-mealtime has ended;
never quiet, never soft.....

barbarian baguette battle-royal.

neighbors,
i may be a powderkeg of loud, fresh, hardness,
and i might even be a cannonball of resentment,
and it's very likely that i'm ALSO a raging uncaged ragnarokin'
berserker barbarian battle-beast,
but,
even when all of that is all really happening all at once?
you'd better rest assured that i sure can make one real mean
mutha-ucking meal out of a super-sized exxtra-sexy sandwich, son.
real talk.
worthy warrior spirit counts for a lot,
and i'll funnel all that fuego into the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and her warm, stormy, mad-scientific kitchen laboratory,
and write a story worthy of the skalds' songs, forever.
i love to make and eat food,
and i'm about that splendor and glory that comes from a well-prepared plate.
that's the truth.
now,
i'll show you what i mean by that...
check the hate-tank-blitzkrieg-type teleport:

more of all of it, all at once.
i'm reppin' that lightning-striking viking raider jauns,
fresh off of the stove, and right into my big angry underbitten orc mouth.
ka-POW!
i doo-doo that full eleven inches of hero-sandwich-style sh!t.
it's true.
and sandwich week accepts no half-measures,
so it's bring the thunder, or be a little b!tchbag,
but there will be no in-between.
i choose thunderous volume, and monstrous appetite every time.
that's a thing.
i got my big ol' baguette, warmed up, and softened on the insides;
a slab or three of snappy crankle-cut pickle stackers;
red & green cabbage, parsley, pea tendrils, scallion slivers, and celery slaw-
cool vegenaisey lube, and crispity-crawnch from all those veggies made the whole
giant jammie-jam so much more expert than some entry-level sh!t would've.
that's no joke,
cayenne cornmeal-crusted fried tofu rectangles keep it professionally protein-rich,
and demostrate my protean propensity to make the hottness happen in all ways
and means within the realm of sandwiches.
i simmered up some homemade agave-sweetened smoky tempeh bacon-style strips,
double boiled and candied, with lots of seasoning and sweetness,
and i added those salty A*-holes right up on there, too.
and then,
with a layer of naturally sugary slippery strings of caramelized vidalia onions,
the whole thing started to take shape.
by the time the ice-shocked curly scallion sprankles hit the roof,
the whole thing was a battle-beast of gastronomically astronomical proportions.
which is of course to say:
too much is the right amount,
and disproportionate serving sizes are the only ones i'm interested in.
throw in a side of steak fries, and serve those with sriracha vegenaise,
and you've got yourself a category 11 explosion of dinnertime dominance.
*
and an hour less time is also on the menu.
i've places to be, sixty minutes ago, even.
i didn't oversleep (i never do)
but i've still got to catch up to this time-traveling leap into the future.
even when you're on that next-level synch,
a skip in the stream creates ripples, that disrupt the flow, y'know?
it's the very last night of sandwich week,
and i'm already running behind in all the ways i'd rather not.
i've got a job to do...
and this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....

leave it there.

hello, and good morning,
i'm pretty excited about the symbolic sweetspot i've hit,
upon awaking from the weird wolds and restless folds
of the residual individual miniature maelstrom of momentary weakness
i experienced last night.
hmmm?
oh.
i was very tired, and very grumpy, and a little hurt-feelings'd,
and i got home and blew up,
releasing all the pent-up simmering and seething sorcery
that dwelling and obsessing and perseverating on the past will produce.
and as soon as i let off the littlest bit of steam,
the seals burst wide, the gate were thrown open,
and a massed and massive exodus of each and every evil and ugly emotion
i've been keeping tightly tethered broke loose,
and i spewed out all the filthy, jealous, foul, frustrated and vile piles of bile,
the vats and vials of vitriol,
the caustic vented spleen splatters,
and all the other other assorted railings and failings
and caterwauls and laments and curses against the relative
inconsistency of active participation and worthy warrior merit
versus the rewards one reaps in direct proportion to being less deserving...
working harder and doing more but getting less of everything as a result
can make even the most expert endurer of hard styles need a minute
to flip out like a berserker barbarian battle-beast bard,
puking out a paean to the
basically,
i threw an adult tantrum against circumstance.
y'know?
but,
after an elite sandwich, and an understanding listener,
i collapsed quickly,
completely used-up, worn-out, ground down, and absolutely exhausted.
(i might actually be powered by anger, as well as assisted by sandwiches)
one fitful and fretful sloppy, floppy, choppy night's sleeps later.
and it sure seemed especially bright outside when i opened my eyes.
yeah.
that's when i remembered something pretty flippin' rad.
neighbors,
we're time-travelers!!
and we've left the past behind.
sixty minutes into the future,
and already the laments and expended sense, cents, and scents of yesterday
are completely obsolete.
today is the day, and it's going to be great.
in fact,
despite today being the very last day of the back-to-back big action bigger business
ball-out all-out Folk Life festival of food and flavors and spirit and memory
that has ever gotten busy gettin' busy between buns,
a.k.a. sandwich week,
i'm still going to keep it at eleven with the final day's grand finale feasting.
word up.
am i tired of sandwiches yet?
ew, what are you?
some kind of an A*-hole?
it's not like i'm some ham-and-cheesy, generic wonder white pb&j jerktard.
jeez.
don't be dumb.
i'm combining all the styles,
i'm creating all the tastes,
i'm curating a collection of preposterous hottness,
and i'm already looking forward to november.
yup,
there's another 'nother one then.
that's riiii-iiight.
too much is the right amount,
and 'enough' is really hard to come by.
and the thing is- if there is MORE to be had?
well,
i just happen to have cleared out a whole lot of luggage and baggage
and bitterness, and a few leftovers too;
so now, (and right on schedule)
there's plenty of room inside the furious stormswept fist-shaped furnaces
of my raging ferocious double-bass-boosted barbarian heart.
believe it.
............
*
hey,
y'wanna know something else?
you don't?
awwww, man!
well,
that's kind of a bummer,
because it's all headed your way right now-
what happens in the morning?
lots of things.
but, what happens in the mornings during sandwich week?
you know it, friends.
breakfast sandwiches.
yesterday, AND today.
the final pair of morning glories,
serving to grow my midsection into a man-mountainous bike-tire
of big and fat and blarpity terrible tonnage......eventually.
but,
from the pan to the bread to my mouth,
those first few lengths of the journey are absolutely fantastic.
that's real.
check the yesterday-plus-one-hour-type teleport:

a whole wheat e'rythang b.l.t.t.b.!!
yum.
baconish, lettuce, tomato, tofu, bagel,...expert!
that's good stuff, especially when the bagel getts buttered-up a little bit, too.
full fat is where it's at.
mmmmm.
and now,
check the future-perfect-minus-one-hour-type teleport:

BOOOOOM!
y'know what you get when get it going on?
you get a grand finale barbarian baguette for breakfast!
caramelized leeks are delicious,
and when you toast the bread in the leftover olive oil,
you get all that exxtra flavor soaked right up in there.
so good.
seared king oyster mushrooms,
and that weird wet benevolent bacon business,
some arugala, (it's still a veg-e-ta-ble)
and a twist or two of salt and pepper fresh from the grinders.
i'm tellin' y'all- it's the right way to enter the future.
***********
this is it.
i'm gonna let all the weak sauce wallow in the past.
and also, in the damned dumb dirty south.
there's a whole lot of cold, hard, wet, warrior poetry yet to be composed,
and there's no use reciting the old lines.
they no longer have the power they used to,
and there's so many more new and better ways to span time.
i'm gonna keep telling myself that,
and we'll see if i can convince my labyrinthine brain to disregard
all that stored-up information and experience that keeps the wrenches turning,
the styles hardening, and the fires raging.
i don't know that i can countenance one OR the other,
but maybe both can occupy time and space together.
the past and the future, simultaneously?
but,
what about right now??
right now, it's all really happening, and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

falafel friday, i'm in love.

neighbors,
i'm taking my own advice,
and overdoing it harder than ever.
i'm serious.
i've been working late every day,
and i've been yelling and screaming,
ranting and raving,
and generally letting some battle-beastly barbaric werewolfen
warrior spirit and memory flow  freely from my fanged fingers
and overachieving underbite.
damn.
that's the only way to go, though,
because anything less and i'd just be phoning it in like a slackhole.
and i can't hang out with that.
so,
despite the bitter cold in my achy bones,
and the brittle bits of gristle in my thumb,
(i give it  a thumbs down, duders)
the rules are there for a reason, y'know?
yep.
that's it.
overdoing it is the right choice,
a giant-sized excalibur-class wrench right there for the pickin'-
you already know the concept, kids:
too much is the right amount.
and with that in mind, as well as a few other truths about my infinite nature,
i got started on dinner, two and a half hours late.
ugh.
here's the thing-
there are important key elements that guided my suppertime superheroics.
it was friday;
i already felt awful;
i love food like a big fat pig;
and it's been a minute since i had a worthy falafel sandwich.
sounds like a perfect moment to activate a feel awful falafel friday!!
YEAH!!!
check the stacks-on-stacks-on-stacks-type teleport:

ohhhhhh MAN!
that's a lot of sandwich.
a double-decker dynamite for my impatiently waiting wordmaker,
chock full of classic, and upgrade ingredients.
kaBOOMfire, all over my plate.
two-thirds of a loaf of italian bread were harmed without conscience in
the making of this superstack attacker.
sliced down the center, twice, and all four non-crust sides toasted in a pan after being
gently brushed with olive oil.
mmmmm.
soft AND crispy is better than one or the other.
roasted garlic hummus as a base,
chopped curly parsley, lemon juice, tomato,
and homemade expert-level ultimate spicy deep-fried falafel balls, y'all.
mmmmmhmmmmm.
i've done myself a mischief, i think.
i mean it.
now that i've basically rocked the socks right off of that chick pea nugget nuance,
and done it so nicey-nicely, i may never view store-bought jauns the same ever again.
awwwwwwwww.
(it seriously was so easy, i'm surprised i didn't do it years ago.)
which box mix did i use?
c'mon.
what are you?
some kind of a gigantic A*-hole??
box mix is for jerks.
i used food to make better food.
that's how it's done.
six cloves of garlic;
a hill of beans, garbanzos, to be precise,
a healthy squeeze of lemon juice;
chick pea flour by the eyeballed appropriate quarter cupful;
a whole bunch of parsley, and some cilantro, albeit way less of that;
coriander, cayenne, salt, pepper, g.p.o.p.;
a quarter of a small red onion and the tops of a bunch of scallions,
because onions have all the flavor, but they do NOT all taste the same.....
i get busy with that falafel stuff, son.
no jokes,
and i food-processed all that chunky junk into smaller chunks,
and left it extra lumpy, too.
that's right.
i doo-doo those chawnky chunks,
for that exxxtra-sexxy crawnch once it's fired up in the fryer.
mmmmmm.
i slapped 'em up, and flipped 'em,
and rubbed 'em all down into baby roundie shapes,
and hucked all that spicy beautiful bean-type baller-A* doodietwinklin' hottness
right into the golden molten sizzling vat of oil to boil itself silly in self-sealing
silky slippery greasy goodness from the secret universal plan.
daaaaaaaaaaaaamn!
i made a lot, and i ate it all up.
folks,
there was still that second tier of sandwich to build, too.
just take a look at it one more time:

you really need both eyes to see it all, huh?
word up.
hummus, pickles, pickled red onions, pickled jalapenos, MORE FALAFEL,
and shredded lettuce.
i'm telling it true,
this was my dream come true.
simultaneously eating two perfect falafel andwiches?
too much is the right amount.
that's worth re-mentioning a this point in the story.
what's the lemon for?
really?
for squeezing it's yellow citrus tang up on all that good sh!t.
obvi.
falafel is my favorite.
homemade falafel is my new favorite.
epic quantities of my double favorite is my new new favorite,
and all of it was made possible by observing the rules.
sandwich week is a law unto itself,
and it's meting out mercenary mastication and vigilante digestive juiciness
in equal measure, indiscriminately to anybody close enough to grab a bite.
yuuuuuuup.
it's all just a whole lot of overactive everything, all at once.
full moon residuals,
friday night food fight club sandwich-style favoritism,
and a desire to push myself to deeper, darker, and dumber levels of
shark gluttony and active participatory professional passionate appreciation
of the art of creative destruction through nourishment, nutrition and ingestion.
i'm about that feel awful falafel friday i'm in love with falafels business.  
and as far as it goes,
business is booming.
***********
triple-decker wreckers,
do-or-die/there-is-no-try deep fry vying,
and ferocious forceful facefulls of falafel.
i don't know what you guys did,
but MY friday night was long, hard, dark, cold, and FAT.
i sure know how to have a good time all by my lonesome.
stuffed to bursting, and worsening-
too much is the right amount.
and anyone who says otherwise isn't worth listening to;
never quiet, never soft.....

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.....