The Right to Bear Arms

I enjoy cooking. Every aspect of the process of creating a meal brings me some sort of fulfillment, even washing the dishes. However, there is one thing that tends to be a small burden. Long sleeves. That’s two things, isn’t it? Fuck it. Seriously, trying to chop herbs or flip some meat or scrub a pan (rage level at max) while rocking long sleeves drives me crazy. Ok, lately, I’ve had a ritual of sorts when it comes to my evenings. Small meal/smoothie, gym, come home, snap the bong and then cook. The hoodie stays on after the snap, because, well, I’m too fried to even think about putting on appropriate cooking attire. I could easily make alterations to my ritual, right? Whatever, this is my story. Long sleeves. Pests. With that said, I feel a little for women who star in cooking shows. Women already have be glammed up just to be on camera. Standing over a stove in a dress seems slightly torturous. I’m aware its edited, but that’s not the point. The point (barely) is comfort.

If Nigella Lawson was your step mom, and you were at the age where your hormones are racing but you’re still inexperienced, how often would you try to lay your head on her chest? And have her read dessert recipes?

This is today’s title: Read Me

I just read an email. I’ve never been irritated so much, then returned back to a state of normalcy so quickly. If a 25% raise wasn’t involved, I would have responded with…I don’t know what I would responded with to be honest. I have never gotten the opportunity to seriously sit down and curse out a white person of power. I probably would put a lot of thought into it, maybe even write a rough draft reply-email. I’m over it now. I figured there would be tighter lines of communication since money and the addition of much needed labor are involved.

And now I’d like to share a very short tale about my Saturday. It was written on Saturday.

I’m sitting in the lobby of The Charles. It’s a theater in the wanna-be art district of Baltimore. The films they show draw in very specific groups of people, mainly old white people and “hipsters”. The former are swarming the lobby as I type this. One woman in particular has the meanest broke down mug, like a villainess in a live action Disney picture. I’m wondering to myself why is she so upset? What’s her problem? She’s probably well off so what’s she got to be pissed about?

Then I looked down and saw her right hand hanging like a golden retriever’s tongue, mid-day in July.

I guess if I had a t-rex arm in my twilight, I’d have the grumpy grill too. I couldn’t toss sauteed mushrooms and hold a beer simultaneously anymore. I’m bummed just thinking about that.

I went to see Putty Hill, a film shot entirely in Baltimore. I don’t even know if I enjoyed it or not. It was like a toned down Larry Clark film, mundane everyday life on film minus child nudity and sex.

I’ve been watching the Cooking Channel a lot recently. I figured out what I did wrong with my cheese sauce. Mini-revelations are the best revelations if you ask me, especially if it deals with increasing the volumes of my mmmm’s.

The Cover Judger

Picked this up at a FYE that is going out of business for 10 bucks. The cd was $10, not the store. I just wanted to clarify that. I like these deluxe editions because they come with white label tracks, a poster and commentary from the artists and other people involved in the making of the album. One store’s bankruptcy loss is my gain.

Records that my grandmother owned. I haven’t gotten around to seeing all of what is there. Can’t get pass listening to Miles Davis.

I don’t create timetables for my leisure reading, but these are on deck. Two I saw in an old Complex magazine, another two were recommended by a friend and one I picked up on a whim for reason I have yet to discover.

I found out about steel cut oats during a weekend trip to New York back in 2009 and have been a fan ever since. I normally like to top it with a sliced banana but I tried something different yesterday and today. Very good.

I’ll eat cha food fast

Last month, Zagat released a list of the best burger chains in the US. Five Guys got the top spot. My first, and last up until recently, visit to Five Guys Burgers was not exciting at all. I have had better burgers at other spots, chains and one offs. Shit, the wings and pizza shop 2 minutes from my house taste just as good. Plus it’s right across the street from a liquor store. Bonus. But I figured I’d give them one more shot. This time, I had them put cheese on it. Now, I must admit that I did not eat the burger as soon as I got it, so I had to reheat. But I’m still not impressed. At all. For the same exact price, which I believe is around 8 or 9 bucks, I can go to Brewer’s and get a waaaaaaaaaaaaay better cheeseburger and fries combo. Five Guys Burgers gets a D.

The fries were good when they were fresh. So, the visit wasn’t a total bust.

French Fry Friday: The Weekend Edition.


 I had all the intentions in the world to make this post Friday evening. But I got drunk and fell asleep on the sofa. You know how it goes. Hey, there’s some spiced rum! Oh this is mighty tasty. Mmmewnincpiqeunqubdxbszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

This is a crabcake platter from this spot in downtown Baltimore called Silver Moon. I normally go there for subs (I recommend the shrimp cheesesteak) when I’m either (1) going to movies (2) leaving the bar or (3) ending a good day of sneaker shopping. But since I’ve had these braces, I almost completely stopped eating bread. The platter cost about 22 bucks, which I think is a lot of money considering this is a carryout spot but it’s totally worth it. Nice, huge lumps of crabmeat. Not a lot of filling and backfin like most places serve. Portion size-wise, it’s a fucking ridiculous amount of food. I get it and I know I won’t need to eat again for another 24 hours and I’m not exaggerating. I like to have mustard handy too. Sidebar this place is 2 blocks from 20+ titty bars so there’s another selling point to any visitors.

I bet you thought this was going to be about fries.