So, today I made a batch of black beans using the leftover drippings from last night's carnitas. I'm not going to lie, the aquafaba, the bean juice, whatever it is called was freaking fabulous! However, I totally messed up the heavenly bean nectar by tossing a couple of smoked pork necks that I had purchased from the grocery. I wanted to add a little meat to the mix and didn't realize HOW MUCH SALT (yes, screaming) was in them. Oh geez! Don't get me wrong, I am no pussy when it comes to the indiscriminate use of salt. Those salty pork necks turned my best beans ever into the Dead Sea of Legumes. No manner of kale, carrot, nor potato could rid my prize-winning black beans of the overwhelming salinity that took over. *sigh*
Now on to drowning my sorrow in copious amounts of cheap Woodbridge Sauvignon Blanc and binge-watching the new Netflix series "Defenders" while farting like a mule...assuming mules fart a lot.
Gordy has been playing his guitar all night. He is really getting good!
My Dad had some kind of crazy 5 hour surgery to remove cancer from his lip. All I know right now is that they took away so much tissue that they had to reconstruct his lip from the inside of his mouth. As much as I would like to have called him just to say "I love you," I couldn't bare the thought of him struggling with pain just to talk to me. So I texted instead. He responded. He always refers to himself as "Pops." One time, Mom eluded to her distaste for him calling himself "Pops." She said that it implied a closer sense of familiarity and kinship than "Dad" does. I don't get that at all. To me, "Pops" would be something I would expect to hear in a NY Italian gangster movie. Anyway, after Mom's comment, it makes me wonder if "Pop" is Dad's way of conveying a closeness.
This is all I have for now.
No comments:
Post a Comment