boily d

celebrating is essential, neighbors.

yeah.

i said it.

it's an important part of the process.

y'know?

like,

the seldom-seen sweet spots in between the bitter battles an' that.

as always, 

us folks up here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress center the focus of our fetes

on big ol' festive flotillas of food.

yep.

the social aspect of mixing with all the other animals is highly overrated,

when viewed against the adjusted increase in portions when nobody is around but us.

that shark-gluttony gets us every time, guys.

it does.

that old-timey savage stormswept bite-and-swallow activation,

in big concentric spiraling circles?

expert. 

we're surrounding ourselves with frenzied feeding fury,

and ferocious foodstuff destruction.

even on super-irish day, when all y'all are celebrating our favorite italian,

santo pasquale,

and getting lit up on lager or whatever,

we're still steady reppin' that fattie-boombattie bellyhole business

and abstaining from the partying while we celebrate-

instead putting all the energy towards eating something rad.

what are we eating that makes us excited?

we're eating that irish sh!t, obviously.

check the slainte-type teleport:

what do we do when it's time to do it to it?

we bring out a big ol' pot,

and get it bubblin' with that boiled d.

why?

because rules is rules.

friends,

we got small red potatoes, skins ON;

we got big white boiling onions, skins off;

we got parsnips, carrots, and purple-top turnips, peeled and chopped;

horseradish dijon, 

red wine vinegar,

minced garlic,

and fake beer broth.

what?!

yea.

non-alcoholic brewskis, obvi.

that's how we doo-doo those upgraded semi-traditional jauns,

while still keeping it molto real on the manly mantra of worthy warrior poetry-

it's okay not to drink,

but it's not okay to have sh!tty boiled-d.

we balanced the scales to within a microgram of perfection,\

and that bowlful of burliness is testament to that.

check the not-delicious-normally-type teleport:

ahhhhhhh.

and it's not even irish.

awwwwwww.

still, this was the red branch boil broth that brought the noise,

and i s'pose there's something to be said for making tastiness out of lameness.

did i float that cabbage wedge in there, too?

of course i did.

what am i?

an amateur?

no way.

what?

ha.

as a a matter of fact,

that IS my famous black tea soda bread.

so soft, so moist, so rich and righteous,

and a slab with a pat of buttery spread on it 

has all the right moves in all the right places.

mmm.

beats raisins and caraway seeds by a winding irish mile.

hmm?

i dunno if collards and corned tofu is considered traditional.

i do know that it is considered delicious by everyone who had some.

yup.

both of us.

aw.

the thing is, friends-

all of that is sufficient, if you're not prepared to really get it rockin'.

however,

since we are the shazamrockin'est ones,

there's also individual tofu pot pies, as well.

YEAH!!

flaky pastry,

tofu, celery, carrots, onions, parsley, parsnips, peas, and potatoes,

with sage, thyme, rosemary, nootch, g.p.o.p., white vinegar,

and a lot of crackin' black pepper.

all of that.

in the pots,

covered in gravy, and sealed shut with another shamrock-slotted slap

of pastry piecrust.

and all of it,

all over again,

gets that good gooey gloppy sloppy homemade gravy goodness.

why?

because too much is the right amount.

that's that real real.

***********

i wore all green.

mmhmmm.

i do that.

just like i wore all red on february 14th.

i've got team spirit, y'all.

and like i already said,

i celebrate.

i had on the color match blast of haberdashed hottness,

from my socks and shoes way way up to my tamersham on top-

with pants and underpants and shirts on shirts in between-

because i'm not some chump-change weak-sauce waterbaby,

and my personal style, while always considered a hard one,

is still  F*ing impeccably well-appointed.
i don't give any actual sh!ts about traditional st. patrick's day doings.
not one teeny tiny little bit.
but,
i do love to make a big deal in a way that makes the day my own.
as long as we're celebrating, i certainly want in.
just, not the way the doo-doo buttery parade-goers go after it.
real talk.

i'm about making the most of the minutiae that most overlook.

the more you focus on details, the bigger the big picture gets.

that's no joke.

it's all really happening-

all of it,

from the treats and eats to the walks in the streets,

i am grateful for the small-scale big world i've carved out 

of the hard and cold granite mountains, 

for myself, for my peoples, for everybody.

this is it;

never quiet, never soft.....