Followed the package instructions and hot damn! Came out delicious.
Category Archives: Food and Cooking
“You know what my dad calls this place?”
I look above and around the chinch hanging on the walls and between tables, leveling my eyes at the sight of wooden peg games on each table top. A myriad of names pop in my mind.
She laughs as she says it, “Honkey Bucket.”
I’m careful not to laugh too loud. “I will never UNknow that! Let your dad know I’m gonna use it.”
We’re both being sensible; eating as much meat product as possible. While she does the ham-bacon-sausage trifecta, I go for grilled catfish ‘n’ eggs. We discuss the benefits of packing food vs. stopping to eat where we go. “My plan is to save every dollar towards gas.” “Me too.” I tell her about hurricane sandwiches, where you take the whole loaf of bread out of the bag, dress with nonperishable, processed foods, then return all of it back into the bag, the idea being, you can survive a hurricane landfall with this bag ‘o’ food. Yes, the butts are their own sandwich, or you can give them to the dog.
I reach for my phone. “Let’s talk route.” As Google Maps activates, I watch her watch our server pour water into her glass. Just as I think, ‘ooh, there’s a side spigot on that pitcher,” she says, “Umm. That was Sprite.” I want to laugh, but the server’s expression indicates she’s kicking herself internally. “It’s okay,” we both say, and the server explains, “I just got here. Haven’t had my coffee. I’ll get you another cup.” She says, “I totally understand,” as the server whisks off.
I felt compelled to admit I’ve never been a server. Either I was the manager or I was in the kitchen. “Hard to hit the floor when you’re not ready,” I assume. She’s the opposite; she prefers service positions. “Yeah, but sometimes once you’re talking to people it wakes you up.” I nod. That’s why I was never on the floor. I hated dealing with people, but I loved telling them to go fuck themselves. That’s when I realize, this person is good for me. I need someone who is naturally friendly and compassionate who I have no sexual attraction to. We can compliment each other without complicating each other.
I swipe the screen to enter an address somewhere in the American Midwest. The blue ball indicating our current location shrinks as the image expands upward, displaying the green penis of Florida and the expanse of North America above it.
In an act of complete abandon, a huge leap of faith on my protective part, I position the screen towards her. “Pick our route.”
She tightens her face to scrutinize the options. “We’re taking our time?”
I’m amused as she rubs her chin, clearly putting much study to the North America map.
“Either 20 or 40 but west for sure.” I have done the Florida to New York drive too many times, sorry Atlantic seaboard. I want to see some new shit. I hope she wants to see the Grand Canyon.
She points to Louisiana, a certain city I’ve never hung out in, just driven through. “I can talk to her about staying the night.”
“That’s cool. Definitely save on getting a hotel. But we need that confirmed before we leave.”
She nods assuredly, “Oh that’s fine.”
“She needs to be cool with us showing up at 3 in the morning with a dog.”
“Oh that’s fine.”
The paranoid part of me is screaming, but I let her rock out. I have to do this; I have to resolve my crisis of faith, and it starts with trusting this person.
Neither one of us has the will to clean our plates. Maybe if we had smoked prior to brunch, but, oh well.
I lift our ticket from the center of the table. “Honkey Bucket’s on me.”
You know how you look at a thing too long you don’t know if you’re done? I’ve updated two of my Pages, “All About Von” and “Make Contact”. Well if you could just dance through those, offer edits where necessary, so I can stop looking at this, I’d really appreciate it!
Going to walk away and shower while you do that. Maybe eat lunch. Yeah, lunch…
For my art, I prefer to be paid food first, then cash, then weed. So when a fellow poet and dear friend sent me this text, I was too happy to oblige:
In an ironically super useful way, this project aligned with a current project I’m doing for a horror anthology; the main character volunteers at a hospice! This commission would be good practice in translating my terror into fantasy, like I’m trying to do with Millie.
When I poet, I first deliver a freestyle, then I apply the technical aspects, and finish with honing and planing the poem to its essence. Well…the commissioner’s time schedule and mine weren’t in sync, so I hadn’t gotten to the technical phase when she asked for the poem. Guiltily, I scrambled to clean up the freestyle and submitted it. I emphasized it wasn’t my best work and, had I managed my time better, her patient would have his poem.
Deep down I was saddened, knowing that meant I was out a meal. You guys know how much food means to me; it felt like I was dumped by a wonderful potential mate.
But then I get a text saying, he loved it! She had read him my rough draft after all! For someone who doesn’t enjoy violence or darkness she enjoyed the story. I appreciated hearing that, especially because she’s an artist who fairly critiques. So, I got my commission in the form of a great lunch at Community Cafe on Central Ave and I have another satisfied customer. Huzzah!
Here’s the commissioned product, very rough and yes, I could do better:
And for a bonus, the song I used to get into the mood:
…is a recipe! And very popular over in South Asia and Oceania! Who’da thought? :)
My blog buddies, I’m offline-ing the first two weeks of June to address projects requiring strict concentration. Hanging out with you is so fun, yet it distracts me from getting work done…shocker…
But shed not a tear darlin’, I’m gonna schedule a compilation during my usual Sunday-Wednesday cycle to tide you over. Now enjoy this 2013 gallery of me in swimsuits. See you June 15th!
I’m sick of pasta and I miss pork.
Plus, I’m still pulling the ‘starving artist’ thing with an addition of new medication which, surprise, requires me to ingest more salt. What to do, what to do?
The paltry pantry holds a small canister of lentils. Yes, lentils. Good for the belly in lean times, as well as a very very reliable source of protein.
Que mas? Spices…pork gravy mix. Ooh. Maltodextrin. Corn starch. Flour. YES. Thickeners.
I put the lentils to cook for 24 minutes as I dice a whole red, wilty pepper and half a large yellow onion. A little EVOO in the pan, throw those guys in there, toss a 1/2 tablespoon of minced garlic in as well, salt and pepper for flavor, and let all that cook down until the onion is clear.
Remember I said I was sick of pasta? Well I still had about two cups of traditional pasta sauce left in the fridge, so what did I do? I poured a cup in with the veg. Yes I did! Once the lentils were done, I drained all but two cups out of the pot then slapped all that into the veg pan.
THEN comes the pork gravy mix. But oh! Wait.
I got a pork steak in the fridge too. *victory dance*
Piggy comes out to play, and I carve off the large fat, then cube it and add to the pan. OH fatty fatty goodness!
Oven is set to 400 F, the slab of steak is salted and peppered (cuz that’s all pork fuckin’ needs, folks. I don’t know WHY people insist on over seasoning!) and goes in for 14 minutes.
Just enough time to empty the pork gravy mix in with the lentils and let simmer until the liquid reduces to a thick saucy texture.
Two ladles of beaney goodness along with half a grapefruit and my pork steak. Now that’s good eatin’ for less than five bucks!
2 cups dry lentils
1 large red bell pepper
1 large yellow onion (1/2 if you like the pepper flavor more)
1/2 Tbsp. minced garlic
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 packet pork gravy mix (vegetarians? I don’t know what to replace with)
1/4 to 1/2 cup cubed pork fat (omit for vegetarian option)
dash of crushed red peppers (omit if you don’t like the heat….pussy…)
salt and black pepper to taste