Saturday, May 2


do i want chocolate,
or do i want coffee?
don't be dumb.
i want chocolate AND coffee.
obviously, OR isn't acceptable,
because that implies your choice eliminates an option,
and then you're missing out on something.
clearly, this only applies to situations where there are at least two
desirable decisions to pick between.
if the rock and the hard place are all you've got,
don't pick.
if you opt for the lesser of two turds,
you're still implying that you deserve turds.
don't do that.
fight on, ad fight harder, for a better set of selections, son.
that's no joke.
motivational observations aside,
how the heck can you realistically forgo deliciousness?
how can i decide if i want chocolate OR coffee?
no way.
F* that OR sh!t, i want those AND jauns.
word up, neighbors.
coffee AND chocolate exist together already, anyway,
so the choice is made for me, in a way.
it's all about that mocha.
and that is it's own thing.
that's adaptation, and evolution, and cooperation at work.
you knew it had to happen-
i mean, we're designed to solve problems.
more and more and more and MORE AND MORE.
i mean it,
if i have to select one of two good things,
i'm going off-book, and i'm taking them both,
and since we're in the spirit of the thing,
just check the mocha-ring-of-decadence-type teleport:
that's what AND looks like.
so expert.
sort of like a deep, dope, dirty brown butthole,
only about a billion times better.and it's got that double drizzle razzle dazzle,
in strips and strips all along the bumps and ridges of the cakiest crumb i've ever made.
no joke.
what did i do differently?
i don't know.
i think it might've been the magic of mayday,
and the awesomeness of the inclusive additive activation.
doesn't that sound feasible?
the coffee icing disagrees,
and so does the espresso-infused dark chocolate sauce on top.
i keep espresso beans frozen for just these scenarios.
you never really know when there is gonna be a riotous call
for invigorating chocolate coffee treats, covered in more of both.
y'feel me?
it's nice to be prepared is all i'm sayin'.
y'want a recipe?
of course you do.
i'll give you one.
me too.
here it is:
elite mocha butthole bundt cake.

heat that oven up to 350 degrees F.
get your bundt-hole pan, and grease it up,
maybe even lightly flour it if you aren't using some ghetto-style spray stuff.
then, get yourself the following flavors in the appropriate measurements-
*a cup of dark brown sugar,
*a half a cup of granulated sugar,
*a stick (8Tbl/1/2 cup) of vegan butter,
*a single serving lunchbox cup of unsweetened applesauce
(that's 4oz. if you aren't about that ease of premeasurement),
*a single supermarket vanilla vegan milkless yogurt style blops.
(or 6oz. from the big bucket)
and don't let me tell you what to do- use whatever flavor you want, i s'pose.
sweetened, unsweetened, plain, vanilla, chocolate.
but probably not a fruity berry one, please,
*two teaspoons of vanilla,
*a teaspoon of coffee extract, if you've got it,
or maybe some cold brew syrup, concentrate, even.
*a half a teaspoon of salt,.
cream all of that crap into a wet mess of sweet, sloppy dissolved doo-doo.
and while it's mixing up, (in a stand mixer if you're serious,
with a hand mixer if you're less serious,
or by hand if you're some sort of amateur)
*fire in a third of a cup of cocoa,
*and four to six heaping tablespoons of instant coffee,
*and two tablespoons of finely ground espresso beans...
once that's a black tar blast of battery blops,
*hit it off with 1/3 of a cup of tapioca flour,
plus a few Tbls, - that's for that springtime spring, and also for extra sponginess.
*and two and two thirds cups of presifted unbleached all-purpose flour,
*and one and a half tespoons of baking powder,
*and a teaspoon of baking soda.
mix that crap up, slowly adding in a cup of non-dairy milk,
until it looks like cake batter. .
if you can't figure that out, get off of the planet's surface,
and return to whatever peat bog sinkhole you've bubbled up from.
no offense, but seriously, no kidding, either.
add it evenly to the circle pan, man,
and then bake that baby b!tch for roughly 40 minutes?
test it with a stabber to know for sure.
if it's clean when you take it out of that doughy dome, it's done.
cool it off for a bit before you flip it onto a wire rack to let it cool completely.
and when you're ready, and it's ready,
you've gotta ice ice baby it,
the coffee sauce is vanilla, coffee extract, confectioners sugar, instant coffe,
and non-dairy milk, mixed to a thick heavy syrupy sauce consistency
i'm sure you know to add in just the itty-bittiest bit of milkiness at a time,
or else the sugar dissolves into tan poopmud water,
instead of emulsifying into awesomeness.
the chocolate sauce?
i always eyeball it.
chocolate chips, or baking bar chocolate, or whatever, with confectioners sugar,
soymilk, cocoa, and that superfine grind of espresso,
and a splash of alcohol-free vanilla (it holds up better over heat),
melted down until it looks like exxxtra-condensed chocolate syrup.
i'm just giving you the guidelines.
i didn't use a recipe, but i'm telling you what i did use.
freak it off yourself,
maybe with little tiny chocolate chips,
maybe with chocolate-covered espresso beans arranged in a crawchy layer
halfway through dropping that batter down.
maybe both?
AND is an addictive addition action.
there's no telling where it ends.
i'm beginning to suspect that it doesn't.
too much is the right amount, after all.
go bake a cake if you feel like it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, May 1

may day!

may day may day may day.
it's today!
today is the day.
the first, the worst, the fit-to-burst calendar-flippin' premier of
the very merry, merry month of may.....
and we're staring up at a skyful of heavy grey clouds.
april showers, today?
i mean, it's may day.
awwwwwwww, man.
am i protesting political problems in the bigger picture?
i'm working.
it's almost the opposite of everything good about today.
i'm not spinning around on ribbons and poles,
nor am i standing up for the rights of the toiling boiling masses.
i'm trying to make those movie checks, indoors,
hiding under the wearying, worrisome, weatherproof roof of the studio
protected from, but still subject to, these dark dirty skies,
may day is one heck of a distress call, y'all.
i'm feeling a little like i could use some help, for sure.
i suppose i'll just have to help myself.
in fact,
i'm think gonna help myself to another treat.
when all else isn't going according to the stated preferences of worthy warrior poetry,
and there's naught but a whole b!tch-A* batch of crap to look forward to,
despite not looking forward to it,
you've GOT to at least have a small snack while you're shoveling crap
back at the crashing waves.
that's what's up.
and honestly, neighbors, i think that's what is gonna see me through the day.
you like peanut butter?
i thought so.
how about chocolate?
word up.
y'ever had a creamchee' brownie?
they're pretty tasty.
now, imagine all those things, and more, in one extra-sexxy bite.
check the super-deluxe-dopeness-type teleport:
peanut butter creamchee' brownies, with chocolate chips,
and melted chocolate drizzled across the tops.
one half of the batter, brown sugar, peanut butter, soymilk, melted vegan butter,
and vanilla, over flour, salt, tapioca starch, baking powder and soda,
with chunks of cream chee' smooshed throughout.....
and the other half loaded with cocoa, and chocolate chips, as well.
two spoons scooping blops in alternating amounts into the pans,
and you get those black and tan blasts of brownie-battered peanut-buttery
ball-out fresh-to-death-friday flavors for your face.
everything expert, together, working towards keeping us motivated
through the magic of tasty treats-baking barbarian big-action activational business
to endure another 'nother day of doo-dooing all the poop
that immersing oneself in responsible adulthood requires.
that's a tall order.
i think those brownies can deliver, though.
i mean, c'mon.
look at 'em.
they're the elite new hottness in full effect.
because they're individual bars,
everybody gets a crispy edge, on every side!
you're welcome.
unless you're allergic to peanuts,
or chocolate,
or wheat,
or soy....or all of the above
in that case,
you are totally missing out,
and you might be a mincey diaper-baby,
because these jauns are so good, it's SO worth anaphylactic shock
and/or fast poopin' diarrhea.
but you probably won't even try 'em, huh?
it's may day.
and there's surely cool stuff happening in a lot of other places.
not up here in the woodsly goodness, no way, no how, no chance.
elsewhere, where i'm not,
there are marches and parades and protests
and pole dancing of the least exotic and erotic sort.
it's just another 'nother friday in these hills, however.
hard working hicks don't need workers' rights-
they just need thirty light beers tonight and a day off tomorrow.
it's all really happening, y'all.
being aware of the greater waiting wide world's consciousness
isn't going to do much in the face of a rack of necktards boot-scootin' and
can-crushing it at yet another pallet fire at the quarry, though.
i'm not sure that's what think globally, act locally is meant to imply.
this is it.
can you hear me?
with my mouth full of brownie, even?
may day may day may day may day may day.
i'm hit, and i'm bailing out,
but i'm well behind enemy lines,
and there's only ever going to be more of this.
thirty one days of may,
starting now;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, rabbit!!!!!

shout it out loud-
that's right.
the magic words.
the four syllables that cultivate coincidences in a favorable format;
the mantra that magnetizes good luck and attaches it to your person;
the spoken spell that summons beneficence to your breast,
and lets it suckle those man-teats upon your heaving bosom,
and siphon off sustenance in exchange for bestowing ethereal well-being
to the rest of your corporeal form.....
that last one is NOT how it works.
it's the first of the month.
y'know what that means?
it means that rules is rules,
and there are things that bear repeating.
more accurately, one word bears repeating loud, fresh, hard, and proudly....
...and you KNOW i said it like i was s'posed to-
oh, yes, you do too know what it is.
it's the gosh-danged title, for crying out loud.
rabbit, rabbit!!!!!
a little practical pronouncement, through pursed lips, and clenched teeth,
out into the universe, in hopes that it's echo will act as a homing beacon for
positive outcomes, or at the very least, to supplant malfeasance with neutrality.
y'feel me?
oh well.
you guys don't care about the talking parts, am i right?
you just wanna look at treats.
alright, alright, alright......fine-
check the lagomporphic-ley-line-type teleport:
word up.
there you have it.
if you play the sh!t that they like,
the people will come;
it's as simple as that.
treats, not feelings, not thoughts, not superior superstitions, not even a little.
it's all about the stuff that gets made,
not the process of imagining that leads there.
thinking is doing something,
but thinking won't bake a F*ing treat, will it?
it's up to ovens and hands and bowls and spatulas and the like.
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t,
and i'm writing to let you know about it:
chocolate, two ways,
over strawberry chee'cake filling,
in puff-pastry tartlets.
sweetened ground chocolate frosting, exxxtra buttery and smooth,
and melted dark chocolate stripes,
on a oh-so-light-and-subtly-lemony powdered strawberry fruit flour-infused
confectioners sugary creamchee' and tapioca pie creme,
in crispy, sugar and butter and creamchee' puff pastry minimuffin-sized cups.
i added the sweetness to the pastry, and it made a HUGE difference in the consistency.
they get that crispity-crawnch when there's sugar in with the fats.
i like 'em more than ever before.
rabbits, and may, and the first of the flippin' month.
all of it,
right now,
is really happening as hard as it can.
what am i doing about it?
i'm gonna eat a whole pan of treats;
i'm gonna zap a whole day of tattoos;
i'm gonna motormouth my way through every overt and covert conversation,
competently communicating the effects of the caustic causeways that condemn me
to bitter berserker barbarian battle-beastly bard business at the beginning of every day.
that's a thing.
there are harder styles sprouting up like may flowers,
and longer days transitioning to impossible nights.
i said the thing that i say-
rabbit, rabbit.
and i do the things i do-
which is a whole lot of everything, and all of it,
every last little teeny tiny bit;
every drip and drop, zip and zap, scratch and sniff, smash and grab;
the whole thing, every time, all the time,
is an  exercise is enduring another near-lethal dose of life.
it's already may,
and no, you may not;
never quiet, never soft......

Thursday, April 30


beans and rice.
red beans, in red rice, with all sorts of red stuff in there.
...that's what i wanted.
and that's what i got.
i spend way too much time cooking on my day off, neighbors.
vast tracts of time elapse while i'm stirring and simmering and sauteing,
and honestly,
i think i could get a lot of other other chores and tasks completed
if i just wasn't so damned busy loving food all day long.
those red beans, though, y'all.
they deserve a decent quantity of attention.
habichuelas coloradas.
a,k,a, small red expert jauns.
with red onion, and red bell pepper, and red hot chilis,
red pepper flakes, cherry tomatoes, crushed tomatoes,
paprika, cayenne pepper, poblano pepper, cilantro, scallions,
and a whole lot of lime juice.
....and rice, obviously.
boiled in al that red stuff.
what do you get when you get all that going at once?
you get the new hottness.
i mean,
check the wednesday-night-tightened-up-type teleport:
yes, yes, YES.
that's red beans and red rice, for sure.
but, of course,
there's also so much MORE.
word up.
the chunky guacamole is in full effect, as usual.
i mean,
once you've dominated the guac' secnario,
you'd be a real A*-hole if you didn't capitalize on that success.
so, that's there,
and there's a lime wedge, for added activational citrus magic,
and there are scallions and cilantro garnishing everything, too.
all that's well and good, tasty, pretty, terrific, delicious, etc, et al.
i know you want to know what's up with that meaty beige big action on the rice,.
and i'll wager you also are a little tiny bit interested in how something as simple
as a burrito can go all the way up to eleven.
i'm here to help, homies.
that beige business on the reddish ricey niceness is a new invention.
that's real.
cooked red lentils, which as we're all already aware, get pretty mushy when they're ready,
added into some simmered sweet onions, hot sauce, bouillon, g.p.o.p,, garlic,
and a jalapeno.
that gives us a pretty spicy mash of mush.....which i s'pose isn't a bad thing.
then we add in the vital wheat gluten, and make a F*ing awesome dough.
as a matter of fact, that IS a flippin' hot tamale.
with a little shapely shaping, rolled up in foil. (corn husks are great, i'm sure,
but i'm living in the future, and in the mountains,
and i also made this recipe up on the fly, after a chat with my consultant in utah)
once they're wrapped, they get all steamed up for a spell.
how long a spell?
how long does it take to make red beans and rice.
that s how long a spell.
they're hot, and they're hot, and they're reallly good.
i hit 'em with a dashing drizz' of cholula chipotle, for good measure.
so spicy.
now let's discuss that burrito for a bit.
the biggest tortilla is key, so that you can get way more food in there.
we've got underchee', and daiya(rrhea) chee', and refried beans, and seitan strips,
and shredded baby spinach leaves, and oven-roasted diced multi-colored
fingerling potato bits, in place of rice, and so crispy and awesome in all the right ways.
with exxxtra-garlicy salsa fresca, and scallions, and cilantro garnishing those guts,
so that the hot, the wet, and the fresh all coincide on your tongue at once.
and then the mutha-'ucker gets baked, to crisp up that shell,
and firm up the first layer of that slow-cooked salsa roja on top.
....yeah, it's gets some more unbaked sauce afterwards, too.
it has too, doesn't it?
after all,
rules is rules,
and the rules clearly state that too much is the right amount.
roja mexicana salsa caliente, in vast amounts.
so much red in all the places that matter most,
and all of it really cooperating to ensure the success of this operation.
it worked.
in fact,
that massive mountain of food was so filling that for the first time in weeks,
i had no room for seconds.
that's heavy duty heavyweight hot fire.
it's not like i've been taking it easy, either.
my only day off, and it was spanned in front of the stove.
i could've, and maybe even should've been raking and yard-working-
but that's not very delicious,
and it's a lot like working harder than i do at my actual paying job,
only for free.
that's just not really what i'm about these days.
not one bit.
i'm about finding joy in necessary creation,
and enjoying the super-fancy unneccesary level-up luxury that i add into it.
i want alllllll the dopeness,
and a whole lot less of the waterbabyish weak sauce.
i'm just sayin'-
if i can stew a tomato and pepper sauce for hours to get it where it needs to be,
how could i possible chump out on things that last longer and matter more?
i can't, i won't, i shouldn't, i couldn't, and i wouldn't.
there's work to be done.
i've got a job to do, or two, or three,
and all of it is really happening...
occasionally in sequence and out of order;
short-ordered and short-tempered and most of all, short on time;
this is it, all over again;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, April 28

the best!

pee eye zee zee ayyyy.
i F*ing loooooove pizza.
the most.
it's the best, and my most favoritest,
and i want a lot of it every time i have it.
(and i always want to have it)
i even had some two days ago at the flatbread spot in town,
and all that did for me was whet my appetite for some
really really real-real jauns over at my Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
because when i want the super-elitest expert slices,
i know it's gonna be up to me to make it happen.
and i doo-doo that freaky sh!t, kids.
check the pizza-party-type teleport:
i mean, c'mon-
i made three extra-tasty crisp-edged soft-centered baked ball-out big-action
sourdough circles of supreme pizza pie party-time sparkle magic for my mouth.
one is good, two is better,
but three?
three is jusssssssst right.
that's that magic numberwang!
but, like,
let me tell y'all all about how activated my evening's edible event was....
first up, check the teleport:
baby kale, baby chard, arugala, caramelized onions, and cubed seitan.
with underchee', daiya(rrhea) overchee', and crushed tomatoes, too.
so dope.
and then, once the pizza game was underway?
i really got it going full force,
and cooked up a little somethin' somethin' for the serious 'za enthusiast.
brussels sprouts, baconesque bits, and onions,
with tons of that over and under,
and those saucy 'matoes, as well.
we were feeling molto full.
that's a terrific indication that there need to be MORE, y'know?
too much is the right amount.
that's a thing.
if you didn't know, you're welcome,
and if you already knew,
well, get on my level, duders.
it goes to eleven, at all times.
check the teleport:
a bright and sunshiny pizza coming directly at your face.
heirloom mini tomatoes!!
grilled leeks!!!
baconish bits, and onions, and couple of bits of seitan,
and all that over and underchee' action,
plus one last slap of sauce, for good measure.
for the record,
you always end with a grand finale.
you won't feel overstuffed and overfull and totally destroyed
by the proper dosage of a good thing.
too much of a good thing is F*ing terrific.
that's no joke.
if you don't like pizza,
there's a 100% chance that you are a total A*-hole.
no discussions,
no appeals.
it's been decreed.
that's wordimus prime.
i'm full of pizza,
and that's nice.
i'm full of sh!t,
which doesn't bother me so much...
i assume i must be full of it,
since i talk so much sh!t every single day.
sound logic produces sound conclusions, i think.
if only i wasn't also telling the honest-to-goodness and unbearably bad-newsy
true stories of a real life in words and deeds.
if your sh!t-talk is truth, it's likely your life is also kind of sh!tty.
(it can't be al bad when there's pizza, so take it easy)
i've also found that all of this sh!t-talking is, by and large,
underappreciated by the recipients of those conversational skidmarks.
what i mean is-
i'm certainly not making any friends,
even though i'm making enough food for everybody.
i tell the truth, and believe me,
it hurts me more than it hurts you.
i'd rather give out a sound thrashing with claws and jaws,
since that's a one-directional dispensation of damage.
here we are, no punches, just punchlines,
and a measurably large amount of shared discomfort.
that's what i've got,
and that's what we get.
it's all really happening,
even when we'd rather it wasn't.
--truth tellers can never stop;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, April 27

closing out.

april showers?
not really.
more like calendar confusion, kids.
april has been one heck of a windy bastard,
almost like we're a whole month, or more, behind schedule.
march is supposed to be what shows up like a raging blowhard,
not april's ending.
every single day, up here in the remote and rural woodsly goodness?
we're getting beat up by pretty lame weather,
like, SO lame,
the rest of new england is wondering why we're still in winter.
that's just not cool.
every night is arctic, every day is windy,
and all of it keeps keeping on.
the sun comes out, but it's a trick.
like geniuses who can't do normal everyday stuff, y'know?
how can they be so bright, but suck so hard?
that's what i'm talking about.
at least the sunshine is keeping the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress a bit warmer.
that's a plus.
and it has the added benefit of getting my inside flowers to bloom.
check the teleport:
gerber daisy craziness.
a few years of fertilizing this little lady with coffee grounds and tea leaves,
and she's got more blooms than ever before.
i'll tell you-
a sure do like a little bit of nature in my kitchen, neighbors.
it makes the deceptive light that much more confusing,
but the house is more of a home with all the blossoms.
bursting out of their pots, crawling along the walls, coiling around the beams-
i've got plants on plants on plants,
and they're filling up my whole kitchen with a b!tchin' batch of chlorophyl,
and a heck of a lot of synergistic respiration.
i'm breathing easier,
and my eyes are lookin' at nothin' but good greenery in every direction.,
there's F*ing big flowers blowing up on the sill, still...
you know what a bunch of bright beautiful daisy babies makes me wanna do?
it makes me wanna terrorize a bog ol' plate of panniecakes!
i keep running out of bread,
and that makes making toast a whole lot harder.
so i'm left with pancake activation, or cereal.
the thing is, i don't remember when i bought the cereal,
and i've got a pretty good sense of recall, y'all.
that's a sure sign it was a looong time ago.
therefore, fresh hot 'cakes is the clear winner.
and in that regard, so am i.
check the fat-stack-type teleport:
three dirty discs of heavy-yet-fluffy vegan manly manhole covers.
they're damned good,
but damn i always have to make my batter so thick.
(i like that thickness, duders, that's no joke)
what's the problem with that thick bloppity drop style?
you always get irregularly shaped pancakes.
they're circular-ish.
and that ish makes them look extra wonky in pictures.
i'm not sorry-
i'm just telling you that i know what you're seeing;
i see it too.
i also get to eat 'em,
and that more than compensates my face for the loss of a perfect circumference.
we're running late.
the whole of the white mountains, i mean.
this place is dated a decade behind the latest developements,
and now even the weather is slack-A*ing around the seasons.
i'm moving slowly, too.
although i imagine it's the added weight of a burly barbarian breakfast
that's slowing me down.
april is winding down, and we're headed into the second third, so to speak.
it's too quickly elapsing for being so behind schedule.
i'm not sure i like it.
not that that is going to dissuade any time from passing by.
it's not whether or not you enjoy it,
it's about whether or not you can keep up.
i'll run along and chase after every second,
and always come in second.
that's real life, and that's all there is;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Sunday, April 26

cookie monstrous.

cranberry walnut.
that's what's up.
cranberry walnut cookies.
they go good together.
like hot fire and lightning....
i want treats,
and i want 'em to be expert,
and i need 'em to have cranberry walnut activation jauns, too.
lucky for all of us,
i know how to make that sort of thing happen.
early morning cookie baking?
word up.
check the teleport:
chopped dried sweetened cranberries,
and coarsely blasted burly walnut bits and pieces.
some of 'em with chocolate chips, and some without,
and lots of tip-top cocoa drippin' icing...
....oh, yeah,
and they're gluten free.
i dunno.
i figured i could do it, so i did it.
brown rice, and oat flour,
and xantham gum.
which is intellectually gross (bacteria secretions!),
but necessary for making ground-up rice and oats
stick together through thick and thin.
they're wheatless.
for all the farty little bellyachers out there,
and that's cool, i s'pose.
i added a bit of plain soy yogurt to emulsify these blops,
and there's butter and sugar and vanilla and applesauce, too.
they're moist, and not even gritty,
which is a common sh!t-salad side-effective complaint about
the flours made from dirty hippie grains an' that.
also, these specific jammers,
with those chewy cranberries,
and that sharp, stringent walnut richness just happen to be
verrrry flippin' tasty.
crazy delicious, even.
the thing is, kids-
it's like i NEED to make this stuff.
making things is good for you.
even if it's just cookies, which maybe aren't all that good for you.
it balances out, in a way.
the creation of the thing is it's own reward,
but then again, so are cookies.
maybe the key is not to eat a dozen at once?
i'm cool with that.
i'm sure i can make do with just eleven.
y'feel me?
that's right;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, April 25

big bites.

if you've got big mouths,
then i've got some one-bite treats for 'em.
if you've only got a normal-sized mouth,
it'll probably take at least two bites....
and if you're a no-joke shark glutton?
then there's a good chance you can fit a couple whole ones down the hatch
while everybody else is savoring a single serving like a little baby.
that midi-cuppie-cake-style jauns is where it's at,
and that's what i'm delivering unto the tatzap studio today.
i made some yellow ones, with plain whiteness.
i did, really.
sounds basic, doesn't it?
i know.
straightforward cake, straightforward frosting.
however, i couldn't leave it alone.
that's not my flavor, and it's not how i get down.
so i put a little bit more to 'em.
just a little bitty bit of exxxtra hottness,
because i had to get it poppin',
i know about what's good...and boring isn't it.
i activated the high notes with a little bit of that stripey chocolate drizzle action,
and some grated dark chocolate bar sprankles.
word up.
regular-A* baked goods become baked greats with that added awesomeness.
and that's what's on the menu today...
check the yellow-cake-type-teleport:
little nicey-niceties, all in a row.
i like that.
i bake things.
i break things.
i create some pretty dang good things out of unconnected ingredients,
but i'll deconstruct anything that arrives intact.
maybe it's because i'm sensitive?
but, for real, though.
i feel things so hard that i respond even harder;
as if what goes on in my surroundings is actually always a truth-or-dare,
life-or-death blink-first stand-off between hearts and minds.
and then i make cookies.
there's a fight-or-fight response in my brain that seems to be missing an "l",
and my continued survival is always all about resolving conflicts by cauterizing
the battleground with a surgical-strike scorched-earth excoriating sour scour.
and when that's over with,
i create a recipe from scratch and balance out the destruction with a little making.
left to my own devices,
i'll hang out and make paintings, prints, pancakes and pies every time.....
but add another person's opposing opinion into the picture?
it's hot fire, lava, lightning, lasers,
and ferocious, furious, flip-out fuego-a-go-go from the first misspoken sentence.
i'm tellin' you guys-
i think about what i say before i say it....
and maybe that makes it even worse?
if everybody i know likes to argue and debate,
that probably actually means that it's really me who likes to argue and debate.
it also explains why i'm usually talking to myself, all alone in front of the oven.
and for all the discourses, diatribes, and dissertations i've delivered over the years,
have i ever convinced anyone that the way i do what gets done is a faster, smoother,
more-sound, and superlative way of doing and being?
i doubt it.
and so i offer up some cookies as a consolation in consideration that
without a sounding board i may be a raving crazy person.
have a cupcake, kids.....because i'm sorry that YOU think i'm a jerk.
....even though i actually know better than that.
oh, c'mon.
i bake things.
i break things.
something from nothing,
and some things to nothing.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, April 24

friday i'm in love.

heart shaped cakes??
why not?
it IS friday,
and rules is rules, neighbors, y'know?
yes, you do.
and so do i.
check the teleport:
you like that?
me too.
i mean, i'm allowed to do cute sh!t if i want to.
you're not the boss of me, anyway, and i'm inclined to do pretty little gestures
in contrast to my old, busted, broke, broken barbarian bones.
you feel me?
i'm pretty sure i'm ugly on the INside, too.
the thing is,
i'll deal with that by baking up some lovely love-inspired treats.
that's the right course of action, in any instance:
stay ugly, stay dope.
^^^that's important.
the silicone mold-making cake-cooking ovenly hottness lifted my spirits,
for sure, since these little tasty bits came out so clean and crisp and good-lookin'.
and if it's what's inside that counts?
well, these moist mama-jammas
are white chocolaty yellowness, with a scoople of coconut oil to keep the cakes'
crumb all crisp on the outside and soft under the surface.
there's probably some parallel there, but i'm not buying it.
and on these hearty hearts' best faces?
that's amaretto almond ganache for the icing.
AND shaved german chocolate sprankles on  top.
simple....sort of.
i used a new method of melting up the unseetened baker's chocolate,
with soymilk-soaked almond flour, and vanilla, and almond oil,
and confectioners sugar.
in essence it's sweetened unsweetened chocolate.
i guess that's what i do?
i did it, therefore, that's now a thing.
i heart treats.
i heart heart treats.
i GOT they, and i'm eating them all up.
that's it, kids- mine all mine all mine.
it's friday i'm in love, but that doesn't mean i'm sharing my cake.
i want to have it, eat it, and never have less of it.
have it and eat it and have it, too.
pretty much.
i DO know how to make more, though-
so maybe, just maybe, there's enough for you, too;
never quiet, never soft.....

tropical tastes in the frozen wastes.

the weatherman is telling me it just might snow a bit today.
it'll warm up a little bit, eventually...
but first,
a little reminder from on high will waft down in icy hexagonal
hate-crystal format to make sure it's always in our minds that
nature wins.
i should've guessed some sort of suckiness was assailing us
when the whipping whirls of wind were buffeting my bedroom
in the night, keeping me from all worthwhile rest as i listened
to the howls of the angry airflow.
wind is never a good sign, unless you're a sailboat.
y'know what i need?
something islandy.
something tropical.
something that has got the taste of warm weather and sunshine in it.
i need a coconut creme pie, neighbors.
and y'know what's even better news?
i HAVE one.
check the teleport:
and it's not just some weak-sauce entry-level basic coconut crap.
no way.
i've got all the hottness in one place,
and there's molto molto zest grated all up in that b!tch.
what's all that sweet, gooey red magic on top?
that's strawberry-lime compote,
with lemon extract, key lime juice and zest, and tapioca to thicken it up.
tangy tartness and sugary sweetness and sticky fruit sorcery?
that's expert.
and the crust?
coconut flour, crema de coconut, vegan butter, coconut flakes, vanilla,
and more lime zest.
it's like a macaroon shortbread cookie bowl, waiting for that creme
to fill the void between berries and bottoms.
it's got a whole lot of yum4tum, duders
and that creme filling is the holy word of the prophet.
maybe not that, exactly, but it's flippin' delicious.
coconut milk, crema de coconut, sweetened key lime juice, a dash of vanilla,
a little lime oil, and some custom-blended thickening agents make that stuff
the firmest and the freshest blend of texture,
with the best in contrasting flavors- rich, creamy, smooth coconut,
and sharp, citrusy lime.
both ends of the spectrum, working in concert to dominate the pie game?
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t, because i've got to eat it, after all.
i mean,. i'm not trying to munch up on some mincey minky mealy mess, am i
don't be dumb.
i want all the fire and explosions,
i want all the platinum-plated sparkle-magic,
i want the complicated superfancy unnecessary jauns.
too much is the right amount,
and anything less is not nearly enough.  
there's just a tiny goobieblop of frosting on each of those coconut cookie stars,
for that exxxtra exxxtra extra cute added touch of flavor.
c'mon, kids-
you KNOW i'm into the little extras,
like that zesty surprise in every bite,
and the frosting on cookie on fruit on creme on cookie overactivated action.
and what a rewarding bite this baby has, y'all.
i mean it:
this mother-'ucker tastes like summer, son.
even when wintry aftershocks are rocking their way through the woodsly goodness.
i've got sunshine in my mouth.
that's no joke.
all acquaintances, and no friends?
it's a hard style,
being an elusive, reclusive, exclusive, obvious and innacessible
heavy-handed hot-fire-spitting hermit in these hills.
i say that often, but only because it's perpetually relevant.
i'm mostly at home in my castle, feeding the birds and flipping pancakes
whenever i'm not just flipping out over the failing luxury
of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
it's a doubtful redoubt of ramshackle ruins and really real life lessons.
it is.
i'm reluctant to relinquish the reins of this righteous relic of white mountain leisure.
i've grown so attached to this sinking ship,
and i don't know what i'd do if i didn't allocate so many hours to metaphoric bailing
buckets of bilge and brine out of the bottom of this derelict battle barge.
all hands on deck?
they ARE.
...both of them,
and i'm using the pair of 'em to type away at this S.O.S message in a blog-bottle.
it's all really happening.
pies and cakes and sh!t,
and spanning time in an empty house,
and interactive overreactive creative maniacal minstrel-show monologues
at the only other place i ever really go.
all my social skills are derived from a juggernaut battering-ram of nattering-on
in the live-action live-studio-captive-audience call-and-respond catastrophe
of tattoo times in the bleak back room of the studio.
if i'm not there, overacting,
i'm here,
underreporting on a highly-editorialized true story about F*ing cake or something.
like i said,
it's a hard style, but it's mine;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, April 23

mucho mucho mas.

the WHOLE enchilada, neighbors.
...and then a whole other 'nother whole enchilada-
i only have one day a week to get especially involved in cooking,
so i make the most of it,
and i do all the ins and outs of it all the way to eleven.
that's real.
how many salsas did i make, from scratch?
oh, y'know, just three or four-
depending on whether you count guacamole as a salsa or not.
because i OBVIOUSLY made guacamole, dudes.
what am i?
an A*-hole?
no way.
and my guac' is officially the most guapo.
(yeah, that's right, i know you only love me for my guapery)
i flame-broiled a whole bunch of different kinds of red, orange,
and purple heirloom cherry tomatoes,
and added those little F*ers into a confit of carrot and red onion,
and tossed in some big garlic chunks, and thick-cut poblano pepper,
and fire-roasted chilis, and roughly chopped sweet onion-
and i simmered that heap of hottness forever and ever,
with black pepper and g.p.o.p. and oregano and basil and coriander
and cilantro and toasted celery seed and bay leaf.
once all that good stuff was slowly juiced-up and melded together
in a royal rumble of color and flavor, i turned up the heat, on the stove,
and i turned up the heat in the sauce, too,
because i added some paprika and red pepper flakes to give it a bit less brown,
and a splash more rojo whilst getting the juices extra piping hot and slippery.
ummmmm, yeah.
that's word.
you wanna see what i'm speaking on?
you DO?!
well, that's great news,
because i've got a teleport waiting to be checked:
...those enchiladas are flippin' legen-worthy wraps of warrior poetry in action.
i whipped up some rinotta-be-kidding-me-style underchee',
and spread it down thick.
i made my custom refried beans-
with vidalia onion, g.p.o.p., nootch, ho' sauce, and cilantro,
and i slathered a slap of heavy pulped pinto bean activation in there. too.
that's not all i did.
early in the morning,
when i was blending all my underchee' 'gredients into one masterpiece,
i was also kneading and boiling and getting pretty expert
with a fresh new batch of seitan steaks.
i know, i'm an overachiever-
but i needed it, y'all.
for strips of seitan asada,
with caramelized white onion and minced poblano pepper,
finished with coarse black pepper, and lime juice!
am i serious?
you bet.
the soft flour taco-sized tortillas got topped with scallions and cilantro,
then rolled up and stacked tight in a brownie pan.
ohhhhhhhhhhhh maaaaaaaaaaan.
you know what happens next?
a simple roux and broth sauce,
poured over and in-between those tasty tubes.
i covered the whole pan with foil, and fired it in the firebox
so they'd steam from the bottom up in that ovenly goodness.
after about twenty minutes,
i took 'em out, hit 'em up with some of that enchilada sauce,
and threw their little butts back in for another ten or so minutes.
and served them with even MORE sauce.
that's right-
too much is the right amount,
and i was reppin' that sentiment exxxtra hard all day.
did i make my famous salsa fresca?
i did, and i laid it out on top of some more pan-fried seitan.
and those black beans?
with the tiny tofu cubes?
and the shallot rings?
yes, indeed, friends, i made a scrambled jumble of black hash hottness,
with a spicy chili garlic paste marinade,
and i even topped it with chunky homemade salsa verde.
tomatillos, fire-roasted chilis, jalapeno, green bell, and poblano peppers,
garlic and more garlic, sweet onions, cilantro, scallions, lime, bay leaf,
and a splash of agave.
so expert.
cooked until the tomatillos get all wrinkly and soft.
then i hucked half of it, bay leafs included, into the blender,
so i had some of that sexxy smooth puree,
which helped the whole sauce simmer down even a little bit more.
i'm so excited about this sh!t.
i LOVE food.
why else would i spend a whole day in front of the stove,
instead of raking leaves or doing chores?
oh, right, because that stuff eats balls,
and food is dope!
i even baked those corn tortilla chips while the enchiladas were cookin'.
i made so much of all of this stuff.
and i ate every last morsel on that plate.
i know the rules.
and i know what's good.
i spanned my day off wisely, as far as i can tell.
there was baking, and stewing, and simmering, and sauteeing,
and all of it was working towards one tremendous payout at suppertime.
i've got extras of almost everything,
which means lunch is gonna be molto loud, fresh, and hard today.
there's regular work to be done,
and regular chores to be carried out,
and regular life to be lived....
but i'm powered by radical vegan eats,
and that means that i'm going to have an exceptional day.
it's all really happening,
and it takes as long as it has to to be dope-
everything else can F* right off;
never quiet, never soft.....