The original plan, because you knew shit would happen – it’s one of those Universal constants – was to get up, start the dough and then cook the creole sauce while the yeast were eating and making merry prior to their deaths. However, an unexpected entropy field passed through my produce drawer and sucked the life out of my green bell peppers.
There is no such thing. It’s entirely subjective. A corn muffin is a cornmuffin is a corn muffin. Sure, there are variations—sweet, savory, spiked withpeppers or sausage or cheese. Honestly, they’re all pretty damn good. Whatmakes a corn muffin the best is you and how hungry you are. So when yousee food bloggers advertise the “best” whateverthefuck recipe ever, they arelying to you.
So. Here we are. Two years of trying to restore my sanity by embracing the insane. I cook. I think. I write. I make videos. I work a day job. And I’m more or less happy, finally. Likewise, if this never works out and I’m never successful with it, I’ve already won because I did it. Anything from now on is gravy.
I’m trying to figure out my next move. I’m really looking forward to making Chalupa Cabra, but I’m having trouble sourcing goat meat—specifically goat shanks. I can buy a whole goat, no problem, but that’s a little rich for my blood.
I have this thing I do in my head. I don’t know if there’s an official term for it, but I call it “wargaming”. I’m pretty sure it’s a sign of mental illness. I’ll be certain to ask my shrink at some point. It stems from my over-arching philosophy of “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.” I know how it sounds, but honestly it’s a sort of Mise en Place lifestyle that works well.
But my stew of the moment needed to be low calorie and still feel like a stew. And there I was, in the produce aisle, picking up some red peppers to roast when I noticed them. Turnips and beets and rutabagas and parsnips. Glorious, seasonal underfruits!
