Mr. B and I spent $20 at Chopstix. The Crispy Tofu at Chopstix has jalapenos and other green garnish stuff. It's unbelievable, even carnivores agree. Marc ordered the Kung Pao Chicken and later, in the fridge, it seemed to age two years in two hours. Our conversations were a 6 on the romantic scale, a 1.5 on the sex scale and a 9.8 on the nostalgia scale. This slightly sucks, but we've seriously been dating for seven years and there were too many old ladies there to talk about prince alberts.
Later, we sat on the couch and watched Godfather 2 on Marc's cable. With all the commercials, it took 6 (!) hours to get through. Also, they edited out the bloody and sexual scenes so I didn't even get to see how large that guy's dick was in Havana. It was part of the plot, ok?!
On the other side of the universe, all those blue corns were dried and waiting to be ground into flour. I forgot to mention it, but we pulled each and every dried kernel off the cob in December. It's not easy, your skin sort of peels off and bleeds after an hour of this. Anyway, that was a hundred years ago.
Mi papa found some blue corn recipes on the interweb.
Get out a big bowl and a big wooden spoon. Make the poor biligaana grind two cups of blue corn kernels with a cheap ass coffee grinder.
Mix together regular all purpose flour with the blue corn flour and add eggs, salt, sugar, buttermilk, baking powder ... come on! you've made cornbread before, you know this stuff. and if not, then fucking grow balls and learn to cook, asswipe, you're five years behind.
Also, against our better judgment, we added blue cheese and pine nuts.
It looked and smelled a little puke-worthy. Oh wellsies.
So the blue corn cornbread went into the oven and I walked out back. See that window on the far left of the house? That's the one I'd sneak out of in high school. All those stories are regretfully boring. It wasn't until I got my prescriptions for birth control that the stories became interesting. Cheek slut!
carrots for Silver Star.
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