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Posts Tagged ‘cooking’

Using Kickstarter to Fund Punchbeginner

Hey everyone, I started a Kickstarter campaign!!

The pitch:

Ideally, I would love to create a website called Punchbeginner that allows users to donate money to me in order to fund my creative projects. Musicians, writers, artists, filmmakers, and entrepreneurs would also be allowed to use the website for the same purpose, but they would not get as much money as me. I would get the most money.

punchbeginner

Our logo. The text is in lowercase letters to show that we’re different, and don’t follow the ‘normal’ rules.

Once my website is up and running, and that sweet green comes rolling in, I could begin my inaugural project. It’s a performance piece, one of those ‘art-imitating-life’ things that people with glasses talk about. The asking price is about three million dollars, and the plot would center around what would happen if a 31-year-old man created a website for crowdfunding and was then able to retire from the profits. The best part is that this would be my only project, because the storyline goes on in real-time until my death, whether it comes during the wild celebration that would ensue after squeezing three million dollars out of suckers on the internet, or 100 years from now, when my third implanted monkey heart fails and I can’t find another one because humans caused monkeys to become extinct.

If this sounds like something you would like to see come to life, please donate liberally and often. No refunds, and thank you in advance for your generosity.

How To Make Jelly Beans

Sometimes, when you haven’t bought groceries for a long period of time, you are forced to make do with what you have on hand in your pantry. I’ve created many exotic dishes this way—there was one time I only had four pounds of fresh mangoes, a cup of brown sugar, two sticks of celery, a pile of cranberries, a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil, two yellow onions, a few ounces of apple cider vinegar, a half cup of minced ginger, three garlic cloves, a pinch of salt, and some love. From this, I was somehow able to craft a batch of what I named Third World Cranberry Mango Chutney, for that is how I imagine suffering people cook. They make what they can, and then create folk music on garbage can lids. After that I pan-seared a twelve ounce steak in some butter and poured the chutney over it. I took one bite and threw everything away, because I realized that I do not like chutney, and the taste had ruined the steak.

So, the other day, I found myself with literally nothing but some very old grape jelly, and half a can of black beans. I put those beans in a pan, then added the jelly and let it simmer for five minutes.

I named the dish Jelly Beans. They did not taste good.

Shallow Thoughts

American ‘cheese’ is to the coagulated milk world as hot dogs are to the meat world. But what the hell do I know, I’m just a guy that wipes too hard.

Grooooooooooooss. Image taken from shittyfood.net

 

Nutty Chickle-Que

October 28, 2014 1 comment

Here’s how to prepare Nutty Chickle-Que (Peanut butter-enhanced chicken and pickles with barbeque sauce), one of the sexiest recipes of all time.

Peanut butter. Chicken. Pickles. Barbeque sauce. Adjectives from romantic novels. Combine these. But not all at once.

And also, spinach, honey, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. And more adjectives.

In an lubed pan, lustfully cook the chicken to an internal temp of 165 degrees Fahrenheit. Otherwise you’ll get a throbbing case of diarrhea.

Titillatingly add in the other stuff, and groan enticingly as you do. Let the peanut butter melt sensually, then stir supplely, while wiggling your hips swivelingly.

Erotically wait while everything heats up and blendingly blends. Sweatily remove the pan from the heat, being careful not to drip perspiration in the pan accidentally.

Hornily wait while it all cools. Serve on a plate, and eat ravenously.

Moistly fill your sink with water, clean the dishes regretfully, and wait yearningly until your next meal.

Categories: Recipes Tags: , , , ,

Trying Again At The Recipe

Alright, what was in the thing I was going to cook yesterday? Tree nuts? Gluten? No, that would end up killing too many people. Why is everyone allergic to nuts and gluten all of a sudden? Time was, that’s all we would get for Christmas. Now, if aliens invade Earth, all they have to do is pepper the major landmasses with flour and peanuts, and this world becomes theirs. But not me. I’ll gladly eat the free peanuts falling from the sky. I’ll find a use for the flour. In the post-apocalyptic world, perhaps it will become a form of currency. I’ll invent some sort of vacuum device to suck all that grain dust from the lungs of the deceased, using peanut energy to propel me from body to body, siphoning the respiratory gold that lies within the airsac of each corpse. The remaining humans, those who haven’t swollen to death or sworn allegiance to the new alien government, will gladly follow my lead. But I won’t want to be their leader, and I won’t share the flour I have hoarded. So they’ll all disperse and kill each other off. Then it’s just me versus the otherworldly troika regime of Blandox 3000, Drunvalo 458,739,457, and The Everlasting Fluff, (Fluff has a different meaning on Ungerstudt, the oddly German-sounding planet these aliens hail from) the fate of Earth floating in the balance.

Maybe the recipe had alien poison in it?

Now that I mention it, I think the recipe actually did have something to do with both nuts and gluten: perhaps I do desire a dash to power after all, maybe a yearning for Armageddon. I don’t know.

While prepping for this post, I did find a ripped piece of paper, containing what I believe to be half of the recipe, with the words ‘pollen’ and ‘bee stings’ written on it. Beneath that it reads ‘marinate in cat hair and lactose juice.’ Hmmm. The missing half of that paper probably lists all the required seasonings, because what I have in front of me does not sound like it would please the palate.

Looks like I shot my wad early again. No recipe today. Sorry.

A Food Recipe For A Meal

The pages of culinary history are stained with the lipid-laden blood of creators, the greasy footprints of thieves, and the spatterings of rich, creamy sauces. The recipes that leap out of the past from those pages, especially the early ones, were made with food prepared by unwashed hands, saturated in sweat, earwax, and bedazzled with odd meat choices like squirrel, marmot, bear genitalia, to be consumed by whoever would take it. And people were gross enough to take anything back then.

As food evolved over time, every new generation of innovators stood on the shoulders of the one preceding it. This is where we get our ‘regional’ favorites, which then breed and morph into sundry ‘fusion’ dishes, and so on. Then along comes a guy who would throw the rulebook out the window, if he had ever bothered to pick it up, a culinary ronin roaming the robust, zesty landscape, a guy who ingested a large amount of caffeine after donating plasma who feels like too manythoughts arehittinghisbrain and can’t getthem outfastenough so he’s startingtoramble and forgetwhat wherethiswholethingwasheaded.

The original recipe escapes me now. I feel sweaty. I’ll try next week, go buy a Hamburger Helper and follow the instructions on the box for the time being. I need a nap.

Sautéing Mushrooms

Hey everyone, listen up: I genuinely enjoy sautéing mushrooms. The activity is exciting to me. I could do it for 3-5 hours a day if I really wanted to. Late last night, I even brought up the ‘General Settings’ page on WordPress, clicked into the ‘Site Title’ bar, and typed The Mushroom Sautéing Blog, erased it, then punched in The #1 Blog For Everything Involving Sautéing Mushrooms.

I paused there.

Then I thought, ‘Wait, I recently sautéed some other vegetable, which I can’t quite think of right now, and that was also enjoyable. Not as fun as mushrooms, though.’

This opened up a veritable Pandora’s Box of sauté-related issues for me—if I enjoy sautéing mushrooms this much, then there must exist a vast amount of other items that I would also enjoy dousing in olive/soybean/peanut oil—the strain of oil to be used as sautéing agent could be a topic for another post—and poking around on a hot surface as caramelization occurs.

I can tell right now that I would enjoy garlic.

Carrots too, though probably not as much as garlic.

Why stop at vegetables? Beef…..chicken….the pop of meat in a skillet is gratifying, no matter what delicious animal it comes from.

That’s all I’ve got.

APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!

It’s onions that I really enjoy sautéing, not mushrooms. Mushrooms are my second favorite.

Yeah, that’s the stuff

 

 

 

How To Make Honey Peanut Butter Oat Food Meal

Here’s something I concocted. It’s got honey. It’s got oats. It’s got peanut butter. You can call it honey peanut butter oat food meal, oats with honey and peanut butter snack, or H.O.P.B. (pronounced ‘hop’—the ‘B’ is silent, like in womb, or plumber).

Now, the ingredient list goes like this: oats, honey, and peanut butter. Also, love, care, friendship. And last, but not least, dead skin cells. This last is easiest, as it’s nearly impossible not to get them in there.

Grab a bowl. Insert the oats, honey, and peanut butter into it. The dead skin cells won’t be far behind. As to the love, care, and friendship, you go about getting those into the mix however you see fit.

Microwave for around 20 seconds. The chemical reaction betwixt the peanut butter and friendship and heat will form a sort of soft, paste-like substance that will make everything else mix together.

It’s ready to eat now. You earned it, champ.

 

I’ve Got My Meth Lab Up And Running

Wow. Breaking Bad. What a fantastic show—riveting plot lines, excellent writing, and, most of all, educational. If a middle-aged high school teacher can straddle family life, cancer, and a fledgling career as a meth cook, imagine how high I can fly. Healthy, no kids, and a pretty good idea of how to run an elaborate smack empire thanks to HBO’s The Wire.

Oh, the places I’ll go!

That’s why I started a meth lab right here in my apartment.*(**)

Of course, they never come right out and give an exact recipe on BB. And Googling ‘how to cook meth’ is the mark of a fool. Here’s how I do it: whenever I’m at the grocery store, I head to the cleaning supply aisle, and load up my cart with anything that says ‘toxic,’ ‘avoid contact with skin,’ etc. That’s how you know it’s good. Then you head over to the pharmacy, and get your cough medicines, lubes, protein powders.

I bring all this home, toss it in a pot, and simmer. Yes, it gets noxious. It’s supposed to. I know I’ve got tweaker’s gold when the fumes infiltrate my nostrils, and I pass out, waking up hours, sometime even days later, soaked in urine and sweat.

Then I pour some pineapple juice in for a vitamin C boost, squirt in liberal amounts of model airplane glue to aid coagulation, and presto, meth, or something similar. It will destroy your insides, that’s all you need to know. Come get some.

*Law enforcement officials read: I’m joking.

**Law enforcement officials don’t read: I’m not kidding. Come, buy my meth.

Product Review: Lay’s Chicken & Waffle Potato Chips

“Short of examining the entire history of each individual participating, short of anatomizing each soul, what hope has anyone of understanding a Situation?” —Thomas Pynchon, from the novel V.

So, what is the situation here? We have chicken. We have waffles. From what I’ve heard, the combination is wildly popular in the deep American South. Then we have a potato chip company, trying to fuse the two into a flat, crunchy, wafer-like substance.

We’ll start at the beginning—what do we know about chickens? They taste good, especially when cooked and slathered in any variety of sauces—teriyaki, barbecue, sweet & sour, the list goes on—but what business do they have canoodling with potato chips?

And the waffle—a doughy member of the cake family, commonly stamped with a gridded pattern of craters that house syrup, butter, and any other condiment desired by the diner.

Then comes Lay’s, a potato chip manufacturer with origins in the American state of Ohio. Of what interest is a soul food classic to a corporate giant? All signs point to something vile, sinister, and altogether dastardly that will probably in one way or another screw over immigrants or the lower class.

Prelude to the taste test: I properly cleansed my palate—three saltines, washed down with a glass of water. Room temperature, lingering between 69 and 70 degrees, Farenheit. Optimal for ingestion, and its successor, digestion. Comfortable seat. Napkins. Hands washed. Heart at resting rate. Other vital signs—appeared to be normal.

Presentation: The chips had a very light tannish-orange color to them. They didn’t differ in basic appearance from any other potato-based crisp product I have ever consumed. I briefly thought, in a flight of whimsy, that it would be pleasantly delightful if Lay’s had invested in the research and development necessary to produce a waffle-like grid pattern on each individual chip. Then my mind came back to earth, and I chuckled at the notion of how ridiculous that would be.

Initial impression: First chip, of an ovoid shape, equal in area to four quarters, American. There was a noticeable transfer of oil onto my fingers. The crunch, nothing special. If Lay’s thinks they’re gonna come into my house with a groovy new product, believing that I’m not hip to chip culture, and then drop a lackluster crack-a-lack on me, well, then, they’ve got another thing coming. I’m not saying it was a bad crunch. It could have been better. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder, was this a sly allusion to the delicate, yet noticeable crust of an expertly-crafted waffle, or the first bite of a fried-chicken drumstick, where there is a palpable crunch, but not in an overpowering manner? If so, well-played. If not, then I give them a hearty “eh.”

Taste: I suppose I could have just said this at the beginning—the chips just taste like syrup.

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