cannibus 3.14...

what?
yeah!
pot pie.
c'mon...

unlike pot brownies,
only the flaky pastry crust gets baked when i make this mighty british treat.
that's comparatively misleading in the nomenclature department, yeah?
neither is made in a pot,
and while both may require some TLC,
only one has THC.
pot pie is pretty innocuous.
but it is also pretty flippin' doooooooooope.
and that's word.

it's Fall, my freaky-diki mutha-flippers,
the jump-off for hearty, rib-stickin' thickness from my kitchen.
and for the record,
it is ON up here.

while my hard-workin' honey went to the studio and zapped it up,
i stoked the homefires hearthside,
and invested the entire afternoon peelin', paring, choppin', roasting, rollin', kneadin'
and so many other culinary kitcheny things,
that it was dark before i realized just how busy i'd been all damn day.
that mutha-uckin' pan of manly mealtime has got it all, too:
poultry-geisted tofu cubes,
hunks and chunks of vegetables,
thick, rich, greasy gooey gravy sauce,
and a golden butteryish crisp pastie-top enclosure.
damn,
i used to make moves with paint and pencils and sh!t...
anybody remember arthur?
me neither.
and i'm too full to care!

two kinds of pies in one day?
i doo-doo that pannie-pan pastry-type sh!t.
hell yeah.

apple attack!

another 'nother 3 quarts of gastric destruction.
my oven received a double stuffin' of stuffed-up stuffs, ya'll.
some folks wuss out and only use cinnamon and nutmeg in their apple pie.
that's why theirs is only a lower-than-ten slice of b!tch-sappy weak sauce,
and this nobbly, oaty dutch-crusted malus masterwork goes to eleven.
ginger? cloves? allspice? vanilla? maple syrup?
of course.
when it's complicated, it's just right.

the aftermath.

pounds of hard-pounded hard style scarfing, ya'll.

that's like eating ten dirty diapersfull of delicious.

we brought some serious thunder to the supper table tonight.

i honestly feel like i may burst open,

through my stomach,

out of my torso,

and all over the mutha-uckin' place.

i can't even swallow i'm stuffed so full.

(that's what she said).

cooking food is how i work out the rough spots.

it's a process.

it's a labor of love.

it's how i get busy when i'm otherwise gettin' in my own way.

today was like a marathon therapy session,

with comestible quantities of progress being made.

it all works out the way it's supposed to.

after all,

my wallet may be empty,

but my belly sure is full;

never quiet, never soft.....