four to one.

i like those odds, neighbors.
yup.
on a seemingly endless,
measurably friendless friday night,
when crabtree and i are all alone in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
there's still no excuse not to party it up.
...no joke.
after a long, broke, broken, badly-played poorly-scheduled day of tattzappin',
one where the promise of pizza was broken as soon as we opened,
i KNEW that i should be i charge of forging my own destiny,
and for creating an expert pizza scenario.
ok.
allow me to explain-
the suggestion of pizza for lunch was on the table as we left thursday night,
but,
i know my coworkers well enough to believe that any idea i agree to
will not by the way the story unfolds.....
and, as usual, i was correct.
however,
before i even took the dog for his looooooong uphill hike yesterday,
i had already fired up a big batch of sexy, semolina-suplemented,
high-gluten  double-yeasted olive oily goodness,
in anticipation of counteracting disappointment.
rules is rules,
and one of 'em is to always back up your back ups,
which includes plans, my man.
real talk.
so,
i got home and turned the oven up to 500F.
yep.
half-a-thousand luscious degrees.
and my refirgerator proofed dough was lookin' super succulent,
and the ground golden flaxmeal i'd added really kept it together,
in ways i wouldn't have normally imagined i deserved.
ha.
actually,
the dough was SO dope, and so strong, and so choice,
i had enough for four pizzas.
damn.
that's a lot of pizza, and that's how you know it's gonna be good.
mmmhmmmm.
check the solo-dough-low-pizza-party-type teleport:

WU-TAAAAANG!!!!!
i know what you like, kids.
two reds, two whites,
too much is the right amount.
that's the way i doo-doo my freaky friday pie times.
the dough recipe keeps getting better the longer i let it do it's own thing...
seriously,
this batch held up to heavy secret cashew ricotta-style underchee' better
than any previous pizzas have before now.
also,
the hand stretch is getting pretty well-activated these days, as well.
also also,
i've been letting the individual crusts rise a third time, post stretch,
while i mise en place my toppings.
i have, and i'm glad of it, too-
if i'm gonna terrorize forty something inches of pizza,
i want that sh!t to be The Truth.
and i did, and it was, and i'd like to share a bit more about it-
teleport:

escarole and white bean pizza????
YUP!!
i reserved some of the cashew chee', as usual, to make fresh mozzarella-style magic-
however, i also added way more GPOP, and salt, and white beans,
to make a level eleven white bean chee'/sauce combo layer to build my pizza upon.
expert?
oh, yessiree, duders,
it most certainly was.
with thinly sliced fresh tomato, and oil-braised shredded escarole,
and whole white bean sprankles-
with the scallion and freshie-fresh blops of tapioca-tempered chee',
and parsley to garnish that mean mama-jama!
a jump-off like that means there can be no slack afforded afterwards.
listen up-
i prep my pizza scene like a champ,
and i even left work midday to gather a few key elements to elevate my eats
to a whole other 'nother 'nother realm of shark-gluttonous goodness.
uh-huh.
that's real.
the next pizza was also a sauceless bossy batch of big action,
this time, a little tiny bity au gratinesque:

paper-thin potato, broccoli, red onion, and cheddar daiya chee'!
ba-da-BOOMfire for my tastebuds, b!tches.
underlayer cashew hottness, and a healthy spread of yellow shreds,
followed by those impossibly gossamer potatoes,
GPOP'd and locked with olive oil and a little water, to fully cook 'em before baking.
smart.
pan-fried florets of the freshest broccs, and more daiya cheddar,
with red onions for color, crawnch, and that flavorful zing i crave.
i love onions a lot.
i also love when everything works together to become an undefeated
winning team of taste and texture...
all of a sudden,
it's treats that go great with cheddary chee',
but AS A PIZZA!
damn.
i was already feeling full.
i mean,
the pies all arrive in ten minute increments.
the first one is the easiest, of course, because there's no queue yet.
after that,
the stagger staggers me a bit, and i'm baking, turning, eating, making,
photographing, cutting, moving, shaking, and taking what's mine
like a pure-being pizza slice of infinite nature.
that's real.
....and then i got the crushed tomatoes involved.
teleport:

kale, grilled leeks, supersweet miniature red pepper rings, and fresh basil!
c'mon.
baby kale underneath the sauce, but above the underchee', of course-
blackened leek links, for the heartiest, fullest flavor.
those pepper rings are too dang good to be believed at first bite,
so a second, and third bite is recommended, just for security purposes.
and then,
just when the pot seems like it's full,
i overflowed the loud fresh hardness, and threw the tippiest topmost basil bits
all over the finished product.
yeah, because that taste makes me happiest.
my pizza game is not a joke,
and i don't need anybody around to do what i do.
in fact,
when i'm alone, i can really get deeper into it....even if i didn't do a deep dish this time.
awwwwwwwwwwwww.
i did bring the hottness one more time, though,
and i gotta tell you, the subtle variations make the biggest differences.
check the no-baconish-bits-but-still-elite-type teleport:

brussels, caramelized sweet onions, and molto molto fried garlic!!!!
too F*ing expert.
the underchee' and sauce just go together. i'm willing to bet a nootch-blasted
tomato and cashew underside would also be a banger,
but simple is the most elusive ingredient in this test kitchen.
anyway,
a drop of liquid smoke in the water i dashed those baby cabbages with took 'em higher.
the onions were sugary, and had the faintest little char notes from an overly hot pan...
...delicioso.
those parsley sprankles were there mainly because i didn't wanna waste 'em,
but,
the real superstar of the show was the shallow-pan-fried minced garlic.
oh yeah.
big ol' hewn hunks off the whole clove(s),
of which i chopped four up,
and olive-oil fried to a crispity crawnch before i packed the whole top of that pizza up
with enough vampire-proof juice to walk through transylvania unmolested.
word.
*
i F*s with forty something inches of dinner.
that's right.
and i do my dirt all by my lonely, homie.
i think crabby knew it was dangerously decadent up in this biz,
because he behaved like a good little boy all night.
lucky him, and lucky me,
because for about an hour and a half,
i had no time nor any attention to spare.
he amused himself with a gross bone,
i amassed an army of toppings and doughs.
friday night trumped friday afternoon by an immense margin.
who knows,
maybe that pizza lunch might actually happen today at work?
that'd go a long way to improving the expected excremental expulsion i'm facing at work.
haha.
hard styles, and tough days,
early mornings, and late nights,
pizza, and puppies, and pugnacious predispositions-
it's all really happening,
and i guess that's the way the game has got to be played.
thank goodness for the pizza, at least;
never quiet, never soft.....

squares.

proportions.
i don't pay close attention to that sort of thing.
nope.
not even one little tiny bit.
too much is the right amount,
and that always applies to my bakey makings.
so,
sometimes,
i have just a little crushed graham cracker crumble left over.
other times, i have a whole bunch.
this time,
i had a lot, and i used it to become something much more.
yeah.
that's the way it works around here.
buttery graham and coconut and vanilla and brown sugar,
added in to MORE butterish, and MORE brown sugar,
plus a pinch of salt, MORE vanilla, and 3/4 cup of applesauce,
whipped up into a light, airy mix of battery blops.
from there, it was just a matter of shaking in some flour,
pulverizing more graham crax,
measuring a tsp each of baking kapowder and soda,
and adding a cup of soymilk.
damn.
for an eyeballed off-the-cuff improvisation,
they're kinda bringing the fire to the party.
check the teleport:

i mean, those jauns look pretty cute, right??
ha.
it's the frosting that really completes the look.
whipped up and lathered on, in swirl after swirl after swirl of sugary,
vanilla-y sweetness, holding both halves together,
and taking the tops to the next level of flavor.
i'll bet frosting on a graham cracker is also delicious,
albeit molto low-budget, a.k.a. not invited to my makeout parties.
hmm?
crushed graham crackery sprankles?
sure thing.
after all, there's no such thing as too much of a good thing.
i believe they refer to that scenario as a great thing.
these right angled golden great things fit the description,
and they're so soft, and so buttery, and so fluffy,
that from the very first bite they slide right down into the sweet spot.
(where they probably immediately become plumpy bellymeat)
neighbors,
they're treats!
c'mon.
***********
yesterday,
i ate so much strawberry chee'cake that i skipped dinner.
that's the truth.
not because i'm a calorie counting whiny wet diaper baby,
i mean, that's not a thing we warrior poets worry about...
but,
i glossed over the supper scene because i was already all the way full!
yup.
i stuffed myself silly,
and while i might've managed to snack in increments for the remainder of the evening,
that cake really took me where i needed to be.
the great big obese beast that resides in my insides guides my movements sometimes,
and before i realize it,
the best treats are gone in an instant.
i anticipate that these graham goodies are about to recreate that scene again, today.
it's all really happening,
and damn,
it's all really delicious;
never quiet, never soft.....

strawberry berfdays.

i work with a dude named wayne.
he's a pretty good guy,
and we get along for the most part.
what a rave review, huh?
well,
that may not seem like much, to you.
but,
for me, up here, in the worrisome woodsly goodness,
where hermitage and isolation are the rules to respect
when it comes to drug-free vegan weirdies,
mostly getting along with someone, especially a native son of the up-hereness?
that is kind of a coup.
anyway,
every year, on his berfday,
i fire up a strawberry vegan chee'cake.
and today, kids, is that very day.
yuuuuup.
...and a very happy berfday to the mountainiest manly man i met in these northern hills.
but, if he's such a burly bearded battle-beast,
why does he want such a delicate and delicious strawberry chee' delight?
precisely!
we're friends for a reason.
ha.
neighbors,
check the teleport:

c'mon.
it's got ALL the hottness.
it really does.
i've been freaking it off with lite firm tofu lately.
it makes the whole texture less runny and more cakey,
albeit by the babiest of margins.
a little sturdiness goes pretty far distances when it comes to chee'cake.
that's real.
also,
i use one and a half packages of the creamchee'.
i doo-doo that heavy-handed approach to flavors.
and i use freeze-dried, powdered strawberries in there, too.
they rehydrate themselves in the lightly-lemony 'batter',
and thicken it while they're at it.
it's concentrated berry boomfire,
and it's no F*ing joke.
you wanna make one?
ok.
do this-
prepare a crust. i don't care how you do it, or even if you do it.
you could just run it crustless, but it'd miss out on all the crumbly crawnch.
i used my own graham goodness,
with coconut and brown sugar and vanilla,
but y'know, do what you like.
the filling, tho.
that's the key.
a teaspoon of vanilla, a half teaspoon of lemon extract,
and a healthy squirt of lemon juice,
with a block (12oz?) of drained firm tofu;
one and a half packs of vegan creamchee';
3T of tapioca;
2T arrowroot or cornstarch;
1 T flour.
all of that, and a third of a cup of powpowdered sugars,
all food-processor pureed into one unified pulpy puddin'.
that's essential. it's GOTTA be mixed well, or it's gloppy, and bloppy, and sh!tty as heck.
no good.
so, mix it up,
and pour off half,
and add the strawberry dust.
i use the trader joe's packs of dried fruits,
and i crush 'em in a spice grinder.
that's the good stuff, and it really brings out the best in this batch of smooth sweet treatness.
real talk.
i bake it at 350F for maybe like 25-35 minutes,
depending on when the tiny cracks start to appear in the top.
after it cools, it gets berries on top.
after that cools, it gets frosting on top.
after that, it gets eaten by my big fat face, and wayne's bigger fatter face,
and whomever else needs some?
it's plausible to think they may even get some,
provided they say happy berfday first.
rules is rules, after all.
*
you can thank travis over at veganmagictime for stepping up the cooking scene,
and indirectly getting me motivated to record and provide some basics for y'all,
he's shouted me out several times,
while i'm over here blogging about tattoos or whatever,
...and maybe that's cool, or maybe it's not,
but for sure, a supplemental recipe here or there has got to help a little bit.
right??
right.
*
there's no time for wasting,
but there is unfortunately a wait between waking up,
and dawn's early light.
the hardest part of every day is the span from eyes open to high visibility.
as the mountains get painted pink by the sun's rays,
my day is well underway already.
taking photos, however, requires refined ambient energy,
refracted and reflected through the big picture windows
of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i'm waiting,
and the sun is slowly rising up.
by the time it gets here,
i'll be able to show you that 'cake up top.
it's a top secret delay, or it was until right now.
true stories, told truly, in the morning;
never quiet, never soft.....

beau knows.

y'all don't want what i got.
you want some regular-A* weak sauce.
that's ok, because those jauns pay the bills,
but it's not skills that are required,
just endurance.
ha.
beau, tho.
he knows about what's expert.
he says-
do what you do.
.....and then that's exactly what i do.
one harbinger of mortal human sin and sorrow, coming right up.
thylacine, aardwolf, tasmanian devil, snake, scorpion, bird.....
all of that,
and a gout of ropy black flame.
why?
because expert recognize expert.
check the truth-type teleport:

c'mon.
i can do this all day,
every day.
but,
you don't want it.
that's sad, kinda.
your money spends the same when your ideas are butt,
but,
you're also the same, for ever and ever.
meanwhile, neighbors,
these really real duders are keeping it wild in the streets.
i'm grateful for my peoples.
i'm grateful for the times when i can do what it is i was designed to.
this is it,
and if it was happening just slightly more often than once a year,
i bet the hole damn shootin' match would be much improved.
in the meantime,
i'll see the rest of you,
and the pinterest pictures on your phones, real soon.
try not to veer off of the beaten path in the meantime;
never quiet, never soft.....

bowling.

food in bowls is expert.
y'all may be reppin' plates like its cool,
but a deep hollow, filled with food is hat's UP.
no joke.
you want an example?
ok.
how about a bowlful of homeboy fries?
mmmhmmmm.
...you know it!
like,
on a windy wet monday morning,
when we run out of bread, by mistake,
and everybody is hungry with no time to waste,
there's always potatoes.
well,
at least as long as there's actually potatoes, anyway.
ha.
i do it right-
skins on, baked first, firm on the surface, crispy at the edges,
buttered up, and herbed out,
over onions and GPOP. ho' sauce and paprika-
this time with baconish bits and pieces to activate some exxtra flav'.
mmmhmmm.
extra steps mean extra delicious, i think.
that's why i do what i do, duders...
check the teleport:

with those parsley sprankles!
y'gotta.
and after a loooooong day of terrorizing my good friend beau,
for the second day, in a row,
i got in the door and beat up a bowlful of bloomin' pasta flowers,
with two kinds of beans.
teleport:

fiori a fagioli, friends.
yup.
we doo-doo that tomato-based brothy italian big action.
mmmmmmmm.
the big can of petit diced tomatoes, a scoople of bouillon,
a blast of nootch, four cloves of garlic sliced into fat slivers,
one sweet onion roughly chopped,
GPOP, oregano, basil, rosemary, thyme,
plus baby kale,
more freshie-fresh basil,
and more parsley sprankles.
when you've got tiny white beans,
and gabanzo goodness, and fancy 'ronis???
c'mon, neighbors,
you know that's the hottness.
our last day of meals, and it was all delicioso.
*
today would normally be my only day off.
instead,
i'll work a full shift behind the wheel of my subaru.
yuck.
headed into massholechusetts,
and leaving my lovely little scions of superlative supremacy behind
is always the hardest style i know of.
there's never enough time for family togetherness.
i mean it.
we're still in the big fun phase, before the heart-to-heart real talk times,
and it's over before it even really gets going.
don't get me wrong,
i'm always appreciative of our spanning across the days and nights,
i just want more and more and more.
i'm over here trying to influence their futures and sh!t, son.
that's real.
with limited time,
i'm setting the example of active participation being the only way to go.
it's all really happening,
and i hope it's taking a hold of these younglings.
time will tell,
but not today,
because today, our time is up;
never quiet, never soft.....

mexican monday, family style.

enchiladas!!!!
neighbors,
our enchilada styles here in the woodsly goodness,
so far removed from anything resembling authentico cuisine,
are well and truly what's hot in these here streets.
that's real.
family togetherness is great,
and family together dinner is greater.
but,
when you've got blood family,
love family,
four-legged family,
and choice hard-style homies in the house,
all activating the edible excellence in one area,
and when you see those same folks wild'n out at the suppertime spot,
terrorizing what they're tearing into,
and tearing up with joyful eyewaters over the taste and texture,
you KNOW it's gotta be expert.
....i'm pretty sure it's the gravy that does it, duders.
i got up early, because i'm a morning person,
and i got all my regular stuff done before i got into some special events.
yup.
enchiladas started early in the day,
and had a chance to chill out before the big game.
ha.
our custom cashew chee', spread heavy on those tortillas,
before a blasted batch of beans get's basted across the surface,
to act as adhesive for the seared strips of seitan asada,
and the minced white onion, and the scallion cilantro blend,
all surrounding a small core of cheddar chee' daiya jauns.
mmmmmhmmmmm.
that's when the roux-ready house-made gravy boat floats in
between every last rolled and readied log of luscious creamy hottness.
word up.
when you've already got that much flavor in place,
salsa seems superfluous.......if you're a F*ing A*-hole, that is.
c'mon, kids.
expert sauce on expert treats elevates everything up to eleven.
....and that's where we wanna be at all times, anyway.
actually, enough explanation for a second.
just go forward and check the dang teleport:

ay dios mios, duders!!!
that salsa!!!
sweet peppers, jalapenos, diced tomatoes, onion, garlic, bouillon, g.p.o.p.,
oregano, basil, paprika, black peps, and smoked sea salt!
half pureed, with bay leaves and all, and resimmered into superiority.
you like that, don't you?
i do too.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress was jumpin' with frenetic force.
crabtree and beau were biting each other,
harvest and maple were telling tales of truth and justice,
ampy-d was guac'ing it up, and holding it down.
the whole place was alive,
and i was freaking the F* out with three burners and the oven all raging,
and the countertops all covered in ingredients.
yeah.
even after a morning mise,
i still had a lot to do in a little bit of time.
guys,
too much is the right amount,
and just enchies isn't gonna ever do the trick, y'feel me?
that's right.
that meant MORE refried beans.
damn.
we eat a LOT of those.
i mean, like, a LOT-A-LOT.
it's the little exxxtras we add that make them so desireable-
the nootch,
the GPOP,
(^^^^which i'm reinstating the shorthand back to this way again,
if you're new, it's garlic powder and onion powder).
the peppers and onons and ho' sauce.
all of that makes the already good into the newly grandiose.
...and to think it started out as just mashed up beans.
*
but,
but,
but,
that quesadilla foldover tho, yo.
everybody got one, and everybody loved one.
multigrain tortillas?!
yeah.
they're probably exactly the same as the regular jauns,
but with brown dots of theoretical health added in.
ha.
they taste good, and that's my main priority.
we spread down handfuls of  daiya cheddar and mozzarella,
black beans and onions and peppers,
cilantro and scallions,
and browned up chik'ny bits.
we don't really eff with too much of that faux meat,
but in some instances, a little indulgence runs the marathon.
on top of all of THAT,
there's cashew cream.
fast-blended soymilk and cashews a little lemon, and salt,
for the creamiest cream blendies and the tastiest quesadilla dollops.
mmmmm.
and then MORE cream, and poblano-jalapeno ho' sauce,
AND chili-galic ho' sauce,
for a three stripe drizz' whiz,
with a few scallion sprankles on top!!
-
we got that big taste explosion for our faces.
we had a surprise waiting for us on every plate.
surprise?
oh, yes.
surprise!! ...that stuff is HEAVY.
for realsies.
it's all so smooth, the actual weight creeps up on you,
and before you realize how burly the meal has been,
you're sittin' full up on pounds of blarpity beans an' that.
yum! and ouch!! and yeah!!!
*
i love family dinner.
i do.
i am grateful to have the kids i've got.
i genuinely like them.
i'm lucky to span time with worthy warriors and valkyrie vixens
and berserker barbarian shark-bullet battle-beasts-
it's all really happening,
and i know it's these moments that matter most;
never quiet, never soft.....

PARTY TIME!

if your berfday party ain't poppin',
you get a do-over.
that's a new rule.
yep.
and you know what?
there ain't no party like a M*F* PIZZA PARTY,
because a pizza party don't stop until everybody gets a slice of everything.
that's the truth,
and so were these pizzas, neighbors-
check the double-flat-and-a-deep-d-type teleport:

KABOOMFIRE.
i make all the peoples happy with what i make.
as usual, these days, i started the crust early,
and cold proofed the crap out of it all dang day,
while i tatzapped my flippin' face off at the studio.
by the time i got out,
it was absolutely pizza time o'clock.
word.
first up,
we went crowd-pleasin' skeez with our steez,
and ghetto on the ch'etto-style disc.
check the teleport:

tofurky notdogs?!?!
yuuuuuuuup.
don't even front on that sh!t, y'all.
with leeks and underchee',
and cheddar chee' and that mozz'-
that's a party pie if ever there was one.
and when that one came off the stone,
a whole other 'nother one went on.
again,
check it:

mmmmmmhmmmmm.
we always have a brussels, bacon and onion jauns.
this time,
with spinach and arugala underneath,
and a few of those leftover leeks mixed in with the vidalias.
if you aren't pre-browning your brussels, i'll bet they're bitter.
not ours, tho, yo-
we give 'em a braise and a blaze, and make sure our brassicas stay lit.
we doo-doo that pizza magic spellcasting up in here.
that's our thing.
tempeh bacon is the business.
and when you've slummed it up with dawgs on a pie,
sometimes you've gotta step up the second tier to class the joint up a tiny bit.
that's why we closed out the night with a beast of a big barbarian double-dough.
that's right.
the deep dish game is evolving at an impressive pace.
teleport:

c'mon.
that jammie clearly goes to eleven.
get a little of that thickfreakness on it's cheeks for weeks:

deeeeeeeeeep.
no, really, i need you to look at what's going on up in that:

DEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
buttery semolina high-sides?
yes!
underchee?
always.
daiya on top of that?
mmhmmm.
baby kale?
got it.
caramelized onions?
obviously. we want all the flavor.
shredded basil?
affirmative.
smoked-paprika and black pepper seared seitan cubes?
wordimus prime.
MORE daiya, AND the new mozz' overchee' blend?
too much is the right amount,
and harvest and maple had yet to experience the deep dish dinner.
i'm just sayin',
i had to bring the heat, and impress upon my children
that full and active participation is the only way to go.
eleven is the goal, and a perfect ten is ten percent too little.
damn.
we rep a hard style,
but we compensate for it with that soft crushed tomato sensitivity.
that's right.
you can see how dope it is.
with our custom fresh-mozz overchee' blops on top,
and finished with more hand-torn basil,
and chopped parsley sprankles?!
you know how we doo-doo that freaky deepening, duders.
look just one more time:

wu-TANG!
pizza is my favorite part.
that crust situation is full-blown.
however,
deep dough isn't as dope for flatties.
we found that out the hard way.
awwwwww.
the first two 'zas were good,
but there was a subtle school-lunchy feel to the bones of the thing.
we persevered, and were rewarded with pizza power,
but thank heaven we closed it out with that big, burly banger.
***********
we left the table full,
and happy,
and as a family.
uh-huh.
one satisfied team of stormswept savage gyspies,
all caravanning from the tip of the saucy triangle to the arc of the crust.
but,
all together as one crew of crucial creators of hottness.
yeah.
that was the other best part.
i truly appreciate every last scrap of family togetherness.
i need it, and whenever i can get it,
i gluttonously, greedily gobble it up.
it's a luxury up here, and therefore a necessity.
that's our style.
family team-building dinnertime community.
i love it.
that and pizza.
actually,
that's all i ever even want;
never quiet, never soft.....

what's the 411?

we're like the mary j.blige of treats up here.
hmmm?
how is that so?
well,
for starters,
without that real singing,
those r&b jams from the 90's wouldn't be sh!t,
much the same as how without Folk Life & Liberty,
these treats wouldn't be, either.
vegan hottness is the real singing of culinary r&b, duders.
besides,
today is the day,
4-11,
and also,
that's sort of what we live our days like.
...for eleven.
oh, c'mon.
homegirl had her OWN NAME tattooed on her arm.
that's confidence, duders,
and i can really get behind that sort of thing.
i do blog a whole bunch about the stuff i bake,
which most of you can't taste,
as if the whole world was interested in some guys and his oven
up in the mountains of new hampshire.
it's not exactly the same,
but the date, on the calendar, got me thinking.
anyway,
puff pastry is pretty bangin',
and tartlets are too.
anything cute is always invited to the makeout parties we're constantly throwing-
yeah.
puff pastry tartlets are about get frenched up on by our big wet faces.
that's real talk.
check the teleport:

WORD.
1.25 cups of flour,
two tablespoons of powdered sugar,
.5 tsp of vanilla,
1 stick of butterish,
1/2 pkg vegan creamchee'.
that's it.
if you got that. and a pastry cutter, and some time,
you've got the thing that makes mary j. sing.
y'gotta refrigerate the dough for at least an hour,
longer is better, like most things.
you'll want a hot oven, too.
like, four and a quarter hundreds of degrees.
that's real.
i use my mini muffin tin, and a tart press-
and i ball 'em up,
push 'em down,
poke a few holes in the bottoms,
and after about 11 minutes,
i'm ready to rock somebody's socks right off.
-
that filling isn't fooling around either, neighbors.

creamchee', coconut flakes, confectioners sugar, vanilla, and a splash of soymilk,
stirred into a puddin',
and set up for success with a shake of tapioca.
it's so simple, but it tastes so gooooooooooooooood.
the thing of it is.
it's SO simple that i had to freak it off a bit.
mmhmmm.
too much is the right amount-
and taking it easy isn't taking it to the top...
so i kept putting other stuffs on top, to reach that pinnacle..
the roasted salted cashew creamy crunch goes great with the pastry,
and the dark chocolate stripey drizzle?
yum.
that makes the coconut activate itself into the atmosphere.
yep.
little upgrades causing big improvements is what i want.
that's why i also shook up some shaved chocolate sprankles,
just to let the whole thing work together with a unified flavor profile,
in micro-increments.
it has to go to eleven.
rules is rules.
*
more treats,
more time,
more of all of it.
that's what's up.
today is also the day that beau returns from parts unknown,
for two solid days of tattbombing on his arm.
yep.
beau.
my buddy from before, and also from now.
he's here,
and he's ready,
which in turns means i'm ready,
and together we're gonna take the tag team title by storm.
broken is fixed, or so i'm told.
i guess that means we're about to repair the holy heck out of him.
ha.
it's happening.
today.
that's the 411;
never quiet, never soft.....

putting the ATE in 28!

friends,
berfdays are an emotional time here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
...that's real.

we sing the songs,
and we light the candles,
so there's music and hottness,
brightness and warmth,
but,
there's also big pressure pressing in on all sides to have all the big fun,
and all the while there's always still so much to do,
even when it's a special day...
the decorations were hung,
the presents were wrapped,
the stage was set for a great success-
and that's when i remembered the F*ing homefries.
neighbors-
without homefries, a big berfday breakfast ain't sh!t.
real talk.
so, after not sleeping even a little bit,
and not feelin' the flow of the expert universal wavelengths,
i still had to run out and get a few last minute bits and pieces,
just to create a special berfy moment for amber.
....who woke up,
and interacted with the celebratory scene in advance of it's completion!
awwwwwww, man.
i was counting on everybody sleeping IN, as usual,
and instead, i looked like a total d!ckturd, in absentia,
before the big reveal was fully operational.
i think that was the early warning system for the hardest of hard styles.
yup.
here's the thing, though, neighbors-
everything we did was fresh-
it just wasn't flowing smoothly through time and space
like a berfday explosion of fete feasting festivities should.
...we experienced one hard-won tough-fought expression
of our sincerest gratitude for, generosity towards,
active participation with, and professional appreciation of all things ampy-d.
presents?
you betcha.
we doo-doo that freaky-diki wrappin' sh!t.
check the holiday teleport:

yeah.
it's not that i don't bring the noise on the appropriate gestures,
it's that i'm so noisy about everything else.
ugh.
so, despite every package being full of stuff.
(no single item per box shystie pile inflating here,)
rules is rules-
and those flowers showing up looking hella springtime fresh;
even if, like today's twenty degrees of fahrenheit wake up,
slightly late on the springy times...
the feels were a little effed up, and that's never a tasty piece of berfday sentiment.
duders,
even the breakfast was dope.
but it couldn't overcome the lingering malaise of the previous loooooong night.
teleport:

c'mon!
the potato scene was a key element in the relative expertism, for sure.
they should've fueled the barbarian waffle worthiness,
but we were all still waaaay too tired to really be enriched by the effort.
damn.
we went for a walk,
we ate a slice or two of cake,
we even watched a movie.
and in between i went to work for a spell,
while all the ladies got their nails did up.
mmmmhmmmmm.
berfdays are the worst days,
which just seems so unfair, and SO damned dumb,
especially when every activity is so spot-on for happy smiles,
and all we've got to show for 'em are weary grimaces.
for crying out loud,
even tacos didn't pull us up out of the gloom:

and i mean,
those jauns were really expert.
guacamole is chunky green joyousness.
and refrieds are always a crowd pleaser up here.
the seitan asada situation was miles ahead of itself, and the baby kale,
and baby spinach, and arugula, all had the leafy greenery going off,
like space age nutrients form the future.
scallion sprankles, and pea shoots, and tomatoes to boot?
delicioso.
i think as a family we eschew chee' and sauce on tacos as a matter of course.
the thing of it is-  i disdain and avoid add-on afterwards condiments.
and i'm hoping to instill that in these kids.
no foolin'.
***********
amber turned twenty eight,
and only cried a little bit.
i had every piece of the puzzle flipped, organized, and ready to assemble,
and somehow still managed to mess it up.
the hardest of styles in the cellar of celebration-
that's how it unfolded.
they can't all be the best ever,
but that doesn't mean they can't at least be kind of good.
warrior poetry frequently finds the true story in the fantasy,
and yesterday,
we watched it unwrap itself, and reskin the surface with tired eyes and tight fists.
it's all really happening, friends.
it's our party, and we'll shed a tear, or our skin, as we see fit;
never quiet, never soft.....

BERFDAY!!!!!!!

fancy vanilla cake,
for my fancy vanilla b!tches!!!
WOOOOOOOOO!!!
hahahahaha.
neighbors,
today is the day.
mmhmm.
it sure is.
a great big fat happy mutha-flippin' berfday is poppin' off,
eventually,
once everybody else wakes up.
everybody else?
yessire.
harvest and maple and ampy-d are ALL here,
and so is our terrible terrier,
who's spent the last twelve hours pushing his luck,
and trying to get me to ruin the party with mack-hand battle-beast brutality.
what?
oh, i'm serious.
that's a real scene, guys,
and it's perilously close to coming true.
yikes!
but,
before any of that plays out like a shakespearean tragedy,
there's party time family togetherness on the menu.
and breakfast.
and cake.
cake is compulsory.
without it, it's not your berfday.
rules is rules.
so, for all my plain peoples,
i gussied up some plain cake.
check the teleport:

so k'yoooooooot.
vanilla-bean infused sugar,
and vanilla bean paste in the flour,
and vanilla-tinted tapioca in the mix,
plus, a cup of vanilla soy yogurt in there, too-
and vanilla soy milk!
woooooooooooooordimus prime, kids-
i made a super-tasty, thick vanilla cake circle, double stacked,
and lathered with so much betterthanevercreme frosting.
that's the truth.
y'like those spring sprankles?
me too.
y'like that frosted purple tint to it?
yeah, that's nice.
how about the faint orangey citrus accents in the lighter swirls?
mmmhmmmm.
i HAD to freak it off just a little tiny bit, friends.
too much is the right amount,
especially on a berfy day.
*
amber turns twenty eight today,
and that's pretty rad.
maybe if we'd gotten any sleep,
and crabtree hadn't been such a bastard about bothering my children,
we'd already be partying....
my good buddy shawn is turning 35,
in virginia,
with a lingering case of connecticitis kicking his A*.
damn.
hard styles abound, as we travel into the future.
i guess that's just something we should come to expect.
the house is quiet, except for the sound of my seething savagery,
and the dog's jaws crunching on a filthy marrow-filled piece of 'sgusting.
we're here,
waiting for the big action to begin.
it's all really happening-
cake, treats, fun, family togetherness.
or, at least, it will be soon;
never quiet, never soft.....

guarantees.

sleep isn't expected,
but it sure is resented.
by the third day of sleeplessness in a row,
there's a kind of degradation of optimism that starts slumping,
and sliding, and eventually full-on avalanche-launching
into a catastrophic cataclysm of temper tantrum terror....
at least,
here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
that fury is a real thing.
being tired is just the way it is,
but being wide awake, and staying tired, while everyone else is sleeping?
uh-oh.
that's a slow burning short fuse, for sure.
it's gonna go off, but nobody really knows when.
it'd almost be exciting, if it wasn't so draining.
ugh.
a competent communicative dialogue,
under the frayed-nerve frenzy of overtiredness
is not guaranteed.
y'know what else?
a good graham crust isn't always a guarantee.
haha.
but an exxtra buttery oatmeal-activated upgrade has got to be
better odds for success,
based solely on the addition of more good stuff.
mmmmmmmmmmm.
i did that for my most recent pie.
a few tablespoons of sugar,
a teaspooon of vanilla,
a few more tablespoons, like maybe 4, of butterish, melted,
graham crax,
and a cup or so of coarsely ground rolled oats,
yum.
i always prebake the crust, neighbors.
yeah.
just like eleven minutes or so, to get it firm,
and fuse it together.
that way, i can just chill out a creme pie like a cool customer.
yup.
chocolate orange is what's up.
huh?
yeah.
it IS mildly wintry in flavor,
but,
it is also perfectly appropriate when it's still snowing in april, y'feel me?
check the teleport:

wu-TANG!
silken 'fu, and cocoa, and confectioners, and vanilla, and tapioca,
in eyeballed amounts,
with orange extract and oil and juice,
and zest on zesty zest!!!
an overload of orange isn't necessary at all,
but y'gotta get the skin, and it's essence in there,
and the zest carries all the aroma of citrus sexxxiness.
and while you're skinning and squeezing,
the drippin' juice has always been a welcome addition.
yup.
plus, a teaspoon of orange extract,
and a teaspoon of vanilla, too, for balance?
that's expert.
but,
when it's all that and a package of melted chocolate chips?
it's so firm, but soft,
and so rich, yet it goes down easy.
that's why i had to put some chunky crawchy on there, too.
yeah.
texture, kids. i like a balance in textures.
crushed chocolate orange bar bits, and a little more zest for good measure.
c'mon!
that's a luxurious circle of spirit and memory right there.
with the aureole of orange frosting,
and a few more shaved up orange chocolate sprankles,
the full effect really affects your face.
too much is the right amount,
and that's the only level of commitment i'm willing to accept.
it's all really happening,
and that's no joke;
never quiet, never soft.....