How could I not have used this extreeeeemely hilarious pun before? I eat ketchup all the time. And, see, I need to "catch up" all the time.
Mimes putting gun to temple and pulling trigger, a la Seth Rogan in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Mr. Rogan's update of the gesture involved adding the messy exit wound spray from the opposite temple.
(NOTE: Huh, this scene isn't even in the screenplay, meaning that it must be one of those nutty improvisational bits we've heard so much about).
I''ve been spending far too much time on the internets lately, mostly for music stuff, but you know how that goes...no matter what you're actually looking for, there's a tendency toward meandering. I'm trying quite hard to rein in my natual distractionist inclinations, but I just got sucked into the malignant whirlpool of CNN somehow (for the first time in months), and I can still feel its poisonous residue in the room....
Ketchup really is my comfort condiment. And it pretty much has to be Heinz brand...nothing else labelled ketchup actually tastes like what I think of as ketchup.
So it was declared ketchup time at breakfast on Wednesday morning. Well, in all honestly it was declared tempeh time: there was a brick of tempeh languishing on the fridge door and it didn't have many good days left. The reason it was still sitting there weeks after I bought it: I've never successfully cooked tempeh before. I think that without fail my results have ended up in the garbage instead of in my gullet.
Tempeh is one of those unforgiving foods...if it's not cooked perfectly, it can be downright gross. So I fried it, and salted it, and...it was great. But it tasted so much like a french fry that...you see where this is going. Ketchup time.
This is an occasionally NSFW, mostly gluten-free kitchen notebook that also occasionally threatens to turn into something else and fails, thus remaining its same old cryptic and superficial self. These posts begin to fail to explain (start at the bottom).