I should have known better. Vegan girls are always trouble. And it’s not just because they are a pain in the ass to feed. There’s something kooky in anyone who limits their culinary possibilities so severely. Maybe they need to take a few classes at an online cooking school to learn that food is not the enemy. But the upside is the rarity of obese vegans. Harmony was certainly no exception. She’s yoga master flex, hence me taking an interest. Picking up one’s yoga instructor is a delicate dance. The last thing you want to do is crash and burn, too humiliated to return to a class you enjoyed. I overheard Harmony gab on about her vegan diet and the explosive orgasms she enjoyed as a result, so I rocked the vegan angle. Post-yoga vegan soup on a cold Sunday evening? Harmony was on it, and on me after she sucked down my soup. Home girl demonstrated yoga possibilities I had never even wet-dreamed of. Now we have a regular Sunday Cirque du Vegan: I cook; she defies and gratifies gravity. Read the rest of this entry »
Attention to detail is essential in all aspects of life. You can’t nail the big picture until the small picture gleams. Take your time to familiarize yourself with any new playground you trollop around in. The last thing you want to do is roughhouse where you should be graceful like a pirouetting ballerina. Diddle with care and you will go far. That is how this cous cous dish went from a mundane readymade staple to an incendiary side that will diddle your date’s taste buds. Hear that? That is the sound of your date’s reluctance to bang you fizzling right out the window. You may now diddle freely. Read the rest of this entry »
Much props to New Zealanders for being so lovable. Here’s looking at you Bret and Jemaine! Those kiwis are a treat to be around, especially in their home turf. I visited Queenstown, NZ a while back and was taken a back by the natural beauty of the place. The mountains and lakes and rivers and shit were nice too. Kiwi girls got that organically cute look going on fun and are always up for it, whatever ìitî may be. A drunken lout I met at a Sydney party told me right before I flew to New Zealand, ìWhen you tap a kiwi on the shoulder her panties fall down.î Thanks for the tip, Aussie Aussie, oi oi! He was right. And not only that, Kiwi girls, at least the one I met in Queenstown, did me one better. She dragged me out of the bar, banged me like her forefathers banged their sheep, and then fed me after. Bang to Cook. What she served me was reminiscent of this little ditty. Fresh kiwis served as a decadent dessert hit the spot before I was dragged back to bed for round 2 through 14.
Ingredients (Serves 2):
1. 2 tbsp brown sugar
2. 1 tsp garam masala*
3. 2 tbsp margarine
4. 8 kiwis
*Indian spice made of cumin, coriander, cardamom, peppercorn, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and saffron
Cut off the ends of the kiwi, slice down one side, and remove the peels. Cut the kiwis in half and you are ready to rumble.
On low heat, melt the margarine, add the brown sugar and garam masala, and stir into a syrup. Add the slices of kiwi and sauté in the syrup until the kiwis soften and the color starts to fade (approx 20 min). Serve solo or over ice cream or another desert that needs some extra boom-shaka-laka.