My biggest issue right now is should I have lunch at place 'A', if so I should be there before all the good stuff is gone, so before two o'clock, or at place 'B', where the lunch hour is madness and it is best to go after two o'clock. Both places are in Chinatown. Only one of them has Hong Kong Milk Tea, but the cheese covered porkchop on top of spaghetti with tomato sauce was a bit 'much' last time.
A friend in Georgia opines that liking pineapple on pizza is sufficient grounds for burning a heretic. Obviously he has not had it with anchovies, Sriracha, and a fried egg added, or he would be more accepting.
It's a lifestyle choice.
"I'm feeling benevolent today. Normally I would ban someone who eats pineapple on pizza."
The question is, is there any other way to eat pineapple? How else will you finish that giant can of slices in light syrup? That you bought while drunk and stoned late at night shopping at the 24 hour Luxo-Mart?
[Disclosure: I haven't been drunk in years, and it has been decades since I was stoned. But I'm imagining that in godforsaken places like Stockton or Barstow, that's all there is to life. The 24 hour Luxo-Mart is like a Piggly Wiggly that went rogue and decided on a road less travelled; catering to bikers outside of metropolitan areas along the highway.]
You could make pineapple upside-down cake.
Or put a slice on top of a thick porkchop, cover it with cheese, and stick it under the broiler. Which is what I had at a restaurant that catered to college students in Utrecht years ago, and still remember in every late Autumn detail. For some reason that choice of dinner reached out to me. "Select me", it screamed from the pages of the menu, "I'm interesting and educational!"
Which it was, no regrets on that score. Porkchop, cheese. Good stuff. There was a jar of sambal on the table, which ameliorated the peculiarity. And just like dinner yesterday evening, I felt mildly queasy afterwards.
Shan't bore you with a description, but you should know that there is cheese in this apartment, and the stuffed turkey vulture insisted that he hadn't had anything to eat all day, he was starving, STARVING(!), wouldn't anyone nourish a poor bird, how cruel could we be?!?
Several of my worst food choices recently involved the turkey vulture.
As a carrion-eater he has an iron stomach, though.
I will not be heading into Chinatown with a turkey vulture. The waitresses at my favourite places would look askance. I'm already a dubious sort to them, what with being Caucasian and a smoker, they would probably think that a hungry turkey vulture would be too much of a good thing.
Instead, one or two pipes, pouch of tobacco.
I suspect that the frequent food-related vociferation of the turkey vulture is my apartment mate's effort to get me to eat more, fatten up as it were. I'm a bit gaunt. That may be medication-related, I don't retain body fat very well.
Today's breakfast involved no solid food. Instead, two cups of strong coffee, and a pipe filled with a dark flake tobacco. That slice of ham and pineapple pizza with anchovies and Sriracha sounds tempting right now.
As does the Hawaiian Porkchop.
This is some damned fine pipe tobacco.
Maybe another cup of coffee.
TOBACCO INDEX
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