Steel Cut Oats

Oatmeal was kind of a mushy mess. It made me feel as if I were a farm animal ready to feed in the troff. Paste of oats with raisins and brown sugar used to be the standard. Until I was offered some steel cut, down in Arizona a couple years ago. This was a memorable breakfast, for I also learned that eggs and rice could be a reasonable staple in tough times.

The Steel Cut have texture, meusagelatenous, dang I hope I spelled that one right, and above all, they actually look like oats. The whole food version of rolled out instant meal is satisfying with its buttery flavor. Just a pinch of sea salt brings out the butter, so you don't really need any other acoutraments.

People walk by as I eat my steel cut oats and to their surprise I haven't added sugar, fruit or some other taste enhancer. I just like the real thing, cut a few times and boiled for twenty minutes. I never measure the water, and when it boils I throw a couple handfuls of oats in there and let it do its thing. Since I am a firey person, red hair and all, I need the oaty goodness to calm my inflamed body and balance my hormones. It's nice for a BM as well. So take it easy on yourself and get the full effect of the steel cut.

Baked Beans

Damn I love me some baked beans. When I was a kid, my Dad would make bake bean on toast sandwiches, that wasn't so great, but then again, I think it was the soggy bread's fault. Speaking of that, it isn't just a texture thing, but a mooshy lack of flavor too. Bread pudding is to die for, on the right occasion. It may look iffy so make sure its all that your heart desires by adding coconut milk and plenty of cinnamon.

I try not to tangent and that is all I do. If there were no such thing as procrastination, I wouldn't get shit done. I really started this to talk about baked beans-it seems they speak for themselves. Old Popeye the Sailor Man, was more full of beans than spinach. I bought a can of spinach at the store the other day...Ayy ayy ayy. What I really needed was the first vegetarian baked beans of the BBQ season and man did I get a serious BM today.

Memorial Day is a holiday for the veterans. I say its for the beans. Imagine all those WWII vets back in the tranches spooning cans of beans for their survival. You might get sick of them for an in between season. Just wait until the sunny hunger comes and chips and dips don't do the trcks. Fill up on some baked bean, hot or cold, either way they have such a summer time appeal, that my holiday took a shift for the better once I got a mouthful of our brown little sugary friends.

Eat Beans and Clean Out the Means-soon enough.

Grilled Cheese & Tomato Soup

How healing can this youthful lunch be? Anything hot and melty is usually the bomb, so what is it about cheddar and tomato? When I was about six years old, the neighbor kid came over and put ketchup on his grilled cheese sandwich. I thought that my friend Jon was crazy and that I would ruin my sandwich if I followed suit. I was wrong, this was the greatest thing and then all of the sudden came visions of tomato soup and open faced sandwiches with a fresh slice of tomato. It all came clear, there was much more to this relationship.

Ketchup on french fries will always be the greatest, but now I have another greatest. Crisp, buttery, and oozing with dairy goodness, just the right amount of ketchup will make or break your lunch. Don't be messy, but get enough to last. Ketchup has toatoes in it I am told. Well, I didn't believe that either. It doesn't taste like a tomato off the branch, and definitely doesn't taste like spagetti sauce, so what's the deal?

The amount of sugar we get from ketchup in America over the span of one year could cover this desk, for one person. I heard a guy say the other day that he was putting extra ketchup on his breakfast, because of the licopene. I looked at his belly and thought that might spoil his plan of good heart health. Not to be mean, but ketchup should be eaten as a condiment not as the full course. French fries and grill cheese are kid's food groups and ketchup right along with these two should be limited to keep ketchup a flavor enhancer instead of the only desirable flavor. Heal thyself of this ketchup addiction, but don't give it up completely. It is just too good for that.

Avocados & the Sun

This weekend was filled with endless walking. We hit the lake trail on friday and kept walking. It was so perfect that we didn't want to turn around, so we didn't. As we cruised the shore of lake Washington, in St. Edwards Park, every twist of the trail opened up to the most beautiful spot, unique and worth sitting with for a few minutes. Every new place seemed like an arrival to our final destination.

The moment pressed hard on our sunbaked bodies. And we continued through what felt like a magical garden, shady and fresh as cool oxygen can be. This is where we lost our course and ended up in somebody's back yard. After walking the streets of this neighborhood and searching for trails back to the Park, we hit couple dead ends and finally found our way to Jaunita Dr. and to safe ground.

Now we had a new mission. Avocados and some cool water would bring us back from our dehydrated three and a half hour tour. Our skin had been our great defense against the sun. We may have dried up, but our skin has a layer of fats cells in the derma, which is the second layer below the surface of the skin. The fat content in the avovados would rejuevenate our skin and then when we downed the fluids, all would be well.

The avocado was sliced and made its way to a pizza with jalepenos, garlic and pesto. The heat of the hot pepper needed to be balanced with the avocado, as this was the theme to the green fatty fruit. I didn't think about it before, but you could take the scrapings off of the avocado's skin and rub it on your own--smooth and creamy dream.

The Perfect Burrito

Get this, a burrito can be anything wrapped into a tortilla. You could make a tuna fish burrito or you can get real with the real deal. In my mind there is only one burrito out there and its bomb. First you take a tomato tortilla and steam that thing. Take a 1/2 cup of lime-cilantro rice and a good cup full of whole black beans full of the cumin richness. You can lay the beans on the rice but no need to mix them or to separate them into columns. Next comes the grilled chicken that has been marrinating over night in Marsala cooking wine. Cut it into cubes and once again lay it on top of the pile. I should have said earlier to center the pile in the middle of the flat, open faced tortilla. Throw a handful of cheddar and mozzarella. Smear a spatuala of sour cream blended with chipotle peppers on the nearest side to you. This will keep it from spitting out when its time to roll. The salsa is essential and I think a salsa fresca and a hot tomatillo are the best. Leave out the lettuce because its consistency is better suited for tacos. Wrap some lettuce in a hot and steaming burrito and taste the wilted warm and crunchy lettuce ruin the wrap.

To wrap it up take both sides and fold them into the middle. The edges do not need to touch and you should pay attention to how the pile is stacked up. We are looking to roll up a cylinder shape-not a box or Christmas present taped up by a five-year old. Now you can fold the side closest to you over the pile of goodness to where it almost touches the farthest edge. Tuck the front edge on the under side of the far edge of the pile. This is to contain the ingredients when you make your final move. By adding the slightest pressure you will put your thumbs on the front side with your fingers wrapped around the back side holding that edge your just tucked and a turn of the wrists forward pushing the thumbs forward while curling the fingers towards you. To hold it together grab both ends and give it a little squeeze to plump and stretch out the burrito creating a seal between the tortilla and its fillings.

Put the burrito on a piece of alluminum foil and roll it up. Twist both ends of the foil and gently drop one end on the table. If you do this correctly your burrito will stand on end so that you can peel the top side of the foil as you work your way down the burrito. Too much drippage at the bottom will make for what we call a waterfall burrito and all will fall apart in the end-what a mess. If you have the skills, you probably don't even need the foil. That thing will stand on end without leaking a bean-that will come with digestion.

I am Busy Writing Not Eating

I love the life of a writer. I watched my father sit at the computer and write books. There is pride in accomplishment, but what is the cost? A loss of a connection to the family. The document is more important. This is the one, boy, we are going to be rich. I would have rather something else mattered than your ego's development Dad. The attention I got was being told in a controling manner who I was to be. When I started cooking in High School, it was met with so much bull-shit. I was going no where, well, I didn't plan on it. I wanted to be independent like my big sister, but I needed people more than she.

The funny thing is that I have cooked deliciousness that my Dad would have never tasted if I hadn't gained the skills that I was good at and enjoyed. That guy should have put down the pen and paper and taken on a cooking class-for the rest of our sakes. I am writing right now thinking about food, but I don't or haven't been giving it much time. This is a paradox in my life, to help feed those around me or to do some homework. I will sigh now as if writing about food is good enough to feed me. My hunger grows and now I don't want to prepare anything.

Maybe I will print this out and eat it for dinner.

Last Night Felt like Monday

The BBQ came out of nowhere. Rain everywhere and a chill wind bit my ass all over the place. I can handle the rain, but bring the bitter wind and I am not as much of a tough guy as I thought. So yeah, my friend had some chicken thighs and lamb leg cuts. A quick marinate of fresh garlic, ginger, cinamon, cayenne and a splash of IPA brew. Rice and black beans were thought to be the side, and when I say side, I mean middle. After we grilled the meat, which was great because we were right by the basement door so all that delicious meaty aroma could fill the halls and to keep dry, brrr.

Once in the kitchen, we had some delays. The onions and mushrooms hadn't been sauted and the vibe was very conflicting. Too many chicken heads in the kitchen. Just get out of my way I would think and then when I would try to move with flow--I would find more obstacles. I had to get out of there to find myself again. Knock Knock...dinners ready I gotta steal you for a few. I felt that I had been stolen from myself.

As I served up all the fixins, which turned out to be mixins, a seat at the table was presented to me. I felt all the tension of the day and my doormates hadn't calmed down yet either. This school can hold a lot of tension, stress and exhaustion. All this leads to is more separation and unhealthy environments. I sat staring at my food and then the TV, I could not eat, my stomach was in a knot.

While in my trance, I did not desire food, all I wanted was peace. This reminded me of growing up and playing with my broccoli and mash potatoes until the scene looked oh so natural. Last night I realized that I wasn't hungry because of the stress at the table. After a few minutes my family would have had a chance to cut throught the pleasant bull-shit and busy their minds on their forks. Ahh yeas, time to eat-- with my fingers, of course.

Bio Psych

Today we talked about how some people are "super tasters" in Biological Psychology. We learned that flavor is a combination of the taste and the aroma. I never really knew the difference. Super tasters have the ability to distinguish different flavors to the degree that they may even be tasting the flavor in your dish--across the room! Kidding, I think that I want to be a super taster, but unfortunately I learned that our senses degenerate over the years. I will choose to believe that all of my senses are being refined and specialized for the future.

My Magical Birthday Cake

A year ago, I was thinking how a birthday cake can be a healing symbol. The absense of it can certainly be a tragedy. People are always telling me that I must know what I want and to be specific. Simplicity is the resonance of hearts in mind. I asked for a lemon cake for my 29th birthday and my wishes were instantly rejected. No, no, anything but lemon cake. Now, I was trying to defend my choice and soon I compromised myself--again. A few days later, I had moved through my whole birthday without a cake. The promise was empty, something else stirred from within. I missed the time and the intention of my family and old friends. The disappointment was once again, that I had not been listened to, especially when I was direct and knew what I wanted.

This year was a filled with connection to all my people in Seattle. I set out yesterday to celebrate my 30th birthday with everyone who crossed my path. I said hello, slapped high and low fives, waved and shook hands. My purpose was to break down the barriers that keep us from enjoying our time and place together. Many smiled and some gave the stink eye, laughs outweighed any negative vibes and people changed right before me. From noon to midnight, we played frizbee, walked around, ate and drank and soaked that sun like it was pure dopamine. I realized that the more people that I loved and accepted on just a basic human level reaching ever towards the spiritual, I had no reason for pain. Separation got the best of us. It will take but a few aukward moments to create the connection that we all so desire. The wall is put up, thoughts of conspiracy and alternative motives passes by their eyes and all that they feel is right now, as we are together. Then a quick good-bye and have a great night and on to the next passer by. The funniest thing was that people thought I was either trying to get in their pants or sell them something. When that wasn't the case, they actually trusted that their were no strings attached. If you want to move on with your day, please extend your hand, shake and the both of us will be on our way.

After meeting and greeting what must have been in the hundreds, I was a little spent. We walked to my friends apartment and baked a lemon cake. It was late, and this was going to be from scratch, which meant that we had to make a quick trip to the store for some safflower oil. At about two in the morning, the candles lit surrounded by such goodness. I was filled with warmth and felt my special day had now only one thing left, the wish. I know we aren't supposed to talk about it, but when it was time it came right to me.

The Lemon Cake was presented on an antique plate of familial importance and this mass of love on top was putting off a vibration that would make crying heart bleed. Tears of joy along with a lite whipped frosting. I always knew that you have to love your food. This was different, this lemon cake had come to life, had animated not only myself, but the room and the experience of the day. I was now thirty and it was OK. Thanks Smoosh.