BISCUIT BOTTOM!

twice-roasted beets.
or else they're beat.
neighbors,
i don't necessarily all-the-way enjoy those wholesome
and wholly earthy dirtbombs
unless they've been baked first, roasty and toasty,
salted, oiled, and activated,
before being used for whatever purpose we've got designed for 'em...
but, when that's the case?
well,
then by all means, let's get freaky with the beets, buddy.
dudes,
i made some anti-wind, anti-winter, anti-springtime plot-twist supper.
look,
here's the thing-
when it's 17 degrees fahrenheit, and it's crazily windy,
and it's miserable and ugly and there's fresh snow on the ground,
that springtime feeling just isn't there.
and when your dog is an exploding suicide bomber,
because his ravenous wrench-choosing appetite has caused him
some intestinal mischief yet again?
there's no fun on the menu.
y'know what that screams out for?
biscuits.
...and beets, apparently.
one cast-iron skillet, with one big ol' rolled biscuit bowl pressed into place.
check the teleport:

to be honest,
the biscuit sort of failed.
do you want a recipe for failure?
sh!t, man.
you don't need me for that.
some advice, though.
more butter, more baking soda, and maybe a little sugar, might help.
ha.
and i'm still not writing out the recipe.
i will say this, though-
the insides count.
i'd heard that that's what does.
roasted asian-style purple-skinned white-flesh sweet potatoes,
sliced, oiled, salted, and baked...
over thinned out cashew-garlic-tofu chee',
with sauteed shallots,
roasted carrot strips,
those mutha-'ucking beets,
with brussels sprouts,
and giant chunks of garlic,
and chick peas.
that's a whole lotta flavor.
i'll tell you what else-
lots of black pepper, and those pea shoots helped take it to eleven.
i ate the whole thing.
i couldn't help it.
all those flavors are best buds,
and they were working together like a team.
awesome.
*
what's important here is i made something.
that's the thing of it.
it isn't always a gigantic win,
but doing it puts us all one step closer.
i do that.
i get closer, and closer,
like when you always travel half way to your destination,
with every single step,
until the distance between success and failure is invisibly immeasurably incremental,
imperceptible,
infinitessimal,
but still there.
awwwwww.
and you know what you do then?
make another thing.
don't ever stop.
that's the rules,
and you know how much i love the house rules;
never quiet, never soft.....