I lacked the courage to cook the pork as slowly as possible, but it's still tasty (if not quite as tender). Someday I shall try again, when less is at stake.

That's right. I'm listening to opera, bitches.

The marathon on Sunday is coming down our street. I wonder how long I could get away with handing out cups of saltwater.

After years of both showering and drinking beer, my consciousness became the locus of a zeugmatic apocaplyse:

The towel bar in the rear of your shower is for holding your beer.

After moving, look into making a Spanish gumbo, with chorizo, shrimp and a sofrito base. Basically, paella with a dark roux. This would probably make everyone jealous.

My day today was more or less made by my having accidentally generating a very large text file.

12,284,930 lines, and the last line is 42,995 characters long.

Bam!

I've had a kinda stressful day of fucking around with some new, generously donated computer parts, but I think I'm all set up finally. Now it's time to relax with a bottle of Duvel ( Read more... )

This crockpot pulled pork raises the roof. Motherfucker.

I cooked some bitter melon, recently. It normally tastes a little bit like dandelion stems, but I breaded slices of it in Panko breadcrumbs tossed with kosher salt, fried it in canola oil, and drizzled it with honey. The honey melted into the crust, melting the bitterness away into a really wonderful complexity.

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