NEW PAGE: MORE FICTION, “LISTENING TO A MOSQUITO BUZZ”
I just added another piece of fiction to the page listings above. It's a story that I actually wrote quite a few years ago but recently dusted off and still enjoyed it. I thought it was worth sharing. Like nearly all of my fiction, it takes place in Idaho in areas near where I grew up or went to college. In northern Idaho ...
>
BURGER EXPERIMENTALISM VOL. 3: RIDE THE BACON SNAKE
THIS IS THE END, BEAUTIFUL FRIEND… THIS IS THE END MY ONLY FRIEND, THE END…. OF OUR ELABORATE PLANS, THE END… OF EVERYTHING THAT STANDS, THE END… I came-to with the sound of a faint chopper hammering the air above me. The bleary soft focus of the sunlight flared in my retinas, resolving in the furrowed brow of ...
>
BURGER EXPERIMENTALISM VOL. 2: THE BAHN MI BURGER
Lemme just preface everything by saying I don’t really do Asian food. Don’t get me wrong. I love eating it. I crave it in ways that stalk my belly like insatiable beasts demanding ramen or gyoza or cha gio or General Tso's or any number of other things at 1 or 2 in the morning (usually after a beer or two). I search ...
>
BURGER EXPERIMENTALISM VOL. 1: THE CLASSIC
Light a fire. As you do, wander the yard to the shed, find the fridge in it and open a coldbeer. The coals need time to burn yet. Besides, it’s hot out. A man get’s thirsty. Stare blankly. Doesn’t matter at what. Stopping thought is good for a brain from time to time. Fry some bacon. A house that smells like bacon ...
>
LEMME MARINATE ON IT
I’ve always had a rather lengthy list of things that I think are bullshit. It’s a highly scientific process of how something or someone finds their way onto that list. Usually it begins with me furrowing my brow, pointing with an index finger and stating, “That’s bullshit.” And at that point judgment has been ...
>
NEXT TIME ON OKRA
I’ve gotta admit, I’m not as experimental as I’d like to be in the cooking department. Maybe it’s laziness. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the all-too-real time limits that occur when failure means dinner doesn’t hit the table right in the narrow window after work and before bedtime, bath, mandatory book reading, ...
>
HIGH ON THE HOG, JOWL LEVEL IF WE’RE BEING PRECISE
So The Month of Cooking Dangerously could now be more accurately called The Season of Cooking Irritably. My fucker of a kitchen still isn’t done. Granted, to the casual observer it is done. Functionally it’s done. But the last few nagging details have lingered on and on like a stale fart in the place where I should be ...
>