Most fast food chains volumize their meat with chicken nipples, and why not—they’re inexpensive, abundant, and packed with complex layers of flavor. This spongy, cloud-like tissue creates a receptive environment within the meat for a sauce or marinade to fully penetrate its inner fibers. The road to flavor country is paved with chicken nipples.
Which brings us to a long-neglected aspect of this blog: tips for rich, savory, home-style cooking (the art of which I have learned from producing industrial volumes of soup as a peon in a corporate kitchen). I thought I’d make something featuring the chicken nipple as the star of the dish, as it has been hidden in dark, meaty folds for far too long.
And now, without further ado, the recipe reveal:
Minnesota Wild Rice Chicken Nipple Soup
-Chicken nipples (A note on the nipples: fresh is obviously best. As for acquisition, the chicken from whom you are gathering the nipples should be dead. Some countries (cough, Bolivia, cough) still adhere to nipple harvest traditions which are antiquated and, quite frankly, barbarian. We won’t go into that. In my home kitchen, I use humane methods. So, the most simple way is the lop the chicken’s head off (I like to use a machete and pretend I’m a roided-out Barry Bonds). Once its got no head, that pinche pollo is gonna wanna take off runnin’, and you’re gonna wanna stop that from happenin’. Grab it, and hold it close. Now grasp the headless chicken with one hand, and use the other to drive your knife downwards over the fowl’s anterior pectoralis. Do this quickly, before all the blood spurts out of the giant hole on top of the bird, for you want a little, but not too much engorgement.)
-Stock (After the harvest, you’re going to have an entire chicken (sans nipples) left over. Don’t throw it out. Stick it in a large pot with some carrots and onions, a few herbs, cover with water, and simmer for a few hours.)
It doesn’t really matter what else you put in the soup. You’ve already got chicken nipples, which will enhance anything they come in contact with. And the best thing about teats is their versatility—they’re uniquely delicious whether baked, boiled, grilled, or sautéed.
This soup is perfect for an early spring evening such as this.
And also, you’re welcome.
The Corned Beef Conspiracy: Ireland Doesn’t Exist And St. Patrick Is The Meaty Equivalent Of Mrs. Butterworth
Just as Hallmark created Valentine’s Day so they could sell cards and De Beers invented the concept of marriage in order to give false value to diamonds, March seventeenth has forever become entwined with this strange salted meat, despite said meat having no basis in traditional Irish cuisine, because there is no such thing as Ireland, and therefore no such thing as traditional Irish cuisine, as we will soon see.
Oh, and also this: Colorado Premium, a company specializing in meat processing solutions, created Ireland and the myth of St. Patrick in order to sell corned beef. It’s not crazy at all. Think real hard. Do you know anyone who’s been to Ireland? Do you know anyone who’s met St. Patrick? Didn’t think so. Let’s have a look.
Colorado Premium happens to be one of the world’s largest producers of corned beef, and they also happen to have a picture of a guy wearing a hard hat on their ‘About Us’ page.
Why in the name of fictional St. Patrick’s sheleighleigh would anyone dealing with meat need a hard hat? Meat, and generally any solutions pertaining to it, involve softness. A hard hat seems like something someone who is anticipating a visit to a construction site would wear. Since construction sites aren’t necessary to meat, that means this whole thing is an Illuminati conspiracy. You see, Colorado Premium is run by Kevin LaFluer. LaFluer is a French name. France touches Germany. The Illuminati was founded in 1776 in………….Germany.
Moving right along: a quick scan of Colorado Premium’s ‘Partners‘ page shows standard industry meat alliances—Tyson Foods, Cargill Meat Solutions, Smithfield Beef Group, etc.—except for one: Tapatio Hot Sauce?
What are Tapatio Hot Sauce and a prolific corned beef producer doing in bed together?
Why, they are both shadowy victual fronts veiling the sinister plot intended to further screw the clueless herd of sheep that is the American people, of course.
In what way? Well the guy in the hard hat is obviously building something, and Tapatio Hot Sauce just isn’t that good. So we have an industrious producer of corned beef partnering with a company that makes inferior salsa picante. That means something. Corned beef. Hot sauce. Hot sauce. Corned beef. Corned sauce. Hot beef. Corned hot beef sauce.
Colorado Premium is taking that salsa picante partnership cash and using it to build a moat filled with disgusting Tapatio Hot Sauce around the United States in order to keep us
from leaving. Why do ‘They’ (Colorado Premium, Tapatio, and the Illuminati) want to keep us in? It’s pretty obvious. If the lie about Ireland is exposed, the corned beef gravy train comes grinding to a halt. Since the Earth is flat, you should be able to look out from the east coast and see the Emerald Isle. One glance and you’ll notice it’s simply not there. ‘St. Patrick’ is just the meaty equivalent of Mrs. Butterworth. Guinness is Michelob Golden tinted with discarded beef drippings.
So there you go. Hallmark, De Beers, Colorado Premium, Taptio, and the Illuminati all want you to keep buying things because they created a way for you to buy them.
Wake up America.
i go away a lot, but i always come back.
november ninth, twenty sixteen: i woke up and thought to myself ‘something’s…..different.’ i soon found that biff tannen had ripped his way through the fourth wall of cinematic fiction and into this supposed reality, regained possession of the futuristic sports almanac, and wrested control of the white house (bob gale, a writer for back to the future II, has acknowledged that the rich, powerful tannen is based on someone who recently became king of America—google that), giving rise to a wave of ‘alts’—facts, wings of the right, and of course timelines. within these alternative timelines, expect quite a few of them to legalize pussy grabbing (some in more lawyerly language, some not so much), and in those where a female version of tannen assumes power, an equally degrading form of something called dong conking.
none of that really matters, though. the only thing i ever worry about is me, of course, which is why i have emerged from a months-long hiatus to make it known that i am not fake news. that’s all. i’m expecting many of these alternate timelines to produce executive orders shutting down any and all outlets that do not acknowledge the supreme insight and godliness of our new *rutaceaecean* figurehead of american greatness. so, as of this writing, the official stance of the philosophunculist blog is that america has been made great.
and speaking of biff tannen, was it really so bad that he got to be rich, if only in one timeline? in all three movies, dude gets smothered in poopy, which is what we have to assume is happening to this current commander in chief in every other timeline. just let the guy have one feces-free life, alright?
back to me. this blog is very real. it’s not even news, therefore it can’t be fake news. when the witch hunt for publications of ill repute commences, please don’t censor me. i’ll do anything. grab my pussy (in a timeline where i am a woman). conk my dong (in the timeline where the king is a woman. or even a man. i don’t care. if the masculine king of america wants to conk my dong, i’ll take it. years after this, when i’m homeless because all workers have been replaced by robots and the children and friends of the king, i can tell passersby that the king of america once conked my dong, and they will reward me with a russian ruble.) just let me keep this blog. it’s really all i’ve got, until america achieves an even greater level of greatness and me and everyone i know gets rich from working at our jobs (before the robots take over) because america will be that great
*i sort of made that up, but it has a base in rutaceae, which is the citrus family, and i know that doesn’t help my ‘not fake’ spiel, but due to its base on a real word, it can’t be classified as fake*