I’M BACK, FUCKSTICKS.

Or
I’M GONE AGAIN, FUCKSTICKS.

So a Portland coworker of mine is bribing me with naked pictures of herself to restart my “blog”.

I hate that word. It sounds like puking.

Not that the naked pictures make me want to puke. Quite the contrary, she is hot, hot, hot. You will not see those pictures of her. I’m the one getting bribed, I get the payoff, and I ain’t sharing, so go fuck y’all selves.

The long and the short of it is that I’m back.

And, of course, by back, I mean three thousand miles away again. This time, my life went totally off the wire and I moved to Fort Myers, Florida. I got dumped, worked for nine months solid with eighteen days off to get a restaurant up and running, two people remembered I still lived in Portland and called me on my birthday (one of those calls was the dumping,) and I know more about food, kitchens, and the restaurant industry than any of you ever will, if you are lucky.

You see, I have a career. I spent my time in Tucson working in a kitchen, because it was what I knew how to do. To move, to scrub, to screen for quality, to throw really fucking hot things at other people and scream at the top of my lungs when they fucked up. How to close up a finger cut to the bone with paper towels and duct tape. When you actually have to call the ambulance, and when that dude is just a pussy.

I found myself, and I’ve noticed a lot of you have shaken off, and that’s not your fault. I just got focused and worked too much and talked too little. I still miss you and think about you. Miss Joe, Mr. Ransom, Austin, Mr. Chris “Rent in Paris Sucks” Brooks, Sierra the Dancing Hungarian. I’m not reaching out in search of communication. We’re all busy fucking people. I have a one hundred and twenty pound pig I’m going to break down tomorrow, and make into ribs, sausage, loins, hocks, and ham. I’m just letting you know that you can come back in if you want too hear how it’s going.

I will talk about the fact that I beat off a lot.

I will talk about food. I will talk about loneliness, anger, and all the stupid shit I have not processed nor will I ever get over.

I will never ever lie.

And to make the best hamburger on earth, get 80/20 ground chuck, freshly ground at a course setting if you can, heat a cast iron skillet up until the oil you add smokes, season it (salt, being absorbent of moisture, enhances flavor. It is a must. Use kosher salt or I will kill you. Use any other seasonings you like,) drop it in, and kill the heat. The heat of the cast iron is residual, and will caramelize the sugars in the meat on the exterior, making a perfectly brown and delicious crisp exterior that will hold any condiments you feel like adding and you don’t need any more heat. Let the meat cook until just the top is still red. Pull the meat onto a paper towel and let it rest. Resting meat allows the juice (flavor) to redistribute. Meat under heat acts like a bicep doing a curl: all the blood flows to the center. Do NOT flip the burger. While the meat is resting (5 minutes), reheat the skillet until really fucking hot again. Drop the burger, raw side down, onto the skillet. Checking occasionally, wait until you have the same brown crunchy top on both sides.

Add to a bun and enjoy.

Any questions?