Can I Get A Witness? (Nice To Meat You) / A Study In Cooking With Ovens And Contemporary Masculinity

So let's say you want to make a prime rib roast. Why would you want to do that? Because it's delicious man, what are you, some sort of crazy person? If you are, exit the internet immediately.

Okay, now that the crazies are gone, let's get down to business. I made this bad boy (or girl) the other cold, cold night, and it blew my mind apart into five thousand pieces of taste. I'm going to warn you ahead of time, this is gonna get a bit weird. 

ZEN AND THE ART OF COOKING PRIME RIB ROAST

1. Buy yourself a prime rib roast. This may seem pretty obvious, but if you don't remember to actually buy the roast you're going to have a serious problem cooking it. You know what, because I have heart for you all, here's a shopping list. If you don't think you'll use the spices, you can substitute regular chili powder, but honestly, unless you're on the chipotle bandwagon, one I fully support, you're really not living life. Have you ever noticed how excited white people get about food trends? Anyway;
    
   - Prime Rib Roast (10-14lbs)
    -  4 Carrots
    - 1 Onion (Large)
    - 2 White Potatoes
    - 1 Bottle of cheap to mid-level Red Wine
    - 3 Garlics (what are they called? Let's call them 'bundles.' I really mean these.)
    - Spices (Chipotle / Ancho Chili, Smoked Paprika, Peppercorns, Kosher Salt)
    - 1 Small Thing of Coffee
    - Disposable roasting pan and tinfoil (unless you own one with a lid, weirdo)
    - 1 bottle of Lea & Perrins (if you don't already have this, I've just done you a favour.) 
   ' 
2. Okay, now that you have it all bought, call some friends over (you can't eat it all yourself, doi.) If you're a guy, maybe avoid calling "the Bros" over—one of them will probably call you a homosexual for using the oven to prepare food instead of a microwave. God, your friends are mean. Why do you hang out with them? Seriously though, call them over, and have a small bowl of chips or something. This is going to take awhile.
   
   
3.  Get your pan out. Wash and cut the carrots, potatoes, and half the onion into large chunks, about the size of a golf ball. For the carrots, make them about the size of your thumb. If you're having trouble measuring, cut your thumb off and lay it on the counter to ensure you get the best size. Throw these in the pan. Not your thumb though.
   
   
4. Add about 1 cup of the red wine to the pan, and 3/4 cup of water. Add in about a handful (2-3 tbsp) of the kosher salt and peppercorns, and a few sloshes (2 tsp) of L&P Worcestershire. Shake in about a tsp of ancho and chipotle chili powders, and a tsp of smoked paprika. Here's the weird part; Take two tbsp of your coffee, and throw that in there. I know, right? Don't worry about it.
   
   
5. When you're done with this, check on your friends. If they're bitching about being hungry, give them some crackers and call them ungrateful. Give them the rest of the wine, and tell them to shut up or no one's getting anything. Pause, realize you've turned into your mother, sob a little inside, and carry on. 
   
   
6. You probably want to start preheating your oven right now. Set it to 425. If you have one of those stupid ovens like I do where you have to turn two knobs, one to "bake" and the other to the numbers, make sure you do that. If you don't, you're going to forget and one of your friends will call you "a retard," and that hurts. You should get new friends. They have hangups about gender roles, and to be perfectly honest, if they don't clear that crap up they're going to have serious problems sustaining relationships, both personal and professional for a long time. 
   
   
7. Take your prime rib. While you're unpacking it and trying to avoid spilling animal blood all over your floor, turn a burner up to high and place a large frying pan on it. Then take that sucker, and sear it, on both sides. This will lock in flavour and juice and all that. It will also kick up a bunch of smoke, so be sure to have a window open. At this point, your friends feeling drunken and brave will probably walk into the kitchen and insult your manhood again. Yell at them. Be firm. Say "You think a man doesn't cook? You think you're a man? You want to out man me, son?" By calling him "son" you bring back memories of his overbearing and authoritative father, leaving him vulnerable. "I've seen you in the shower," you should say, "and you are not a man." Even if this isn't true, it will hurt his feelings. "Your mother," you should say, "ask her for a report on how much of a man I am." Punctuate this last point by pointing to, and then grabbing your genitals. 
   
   
8. Take a moment to wash the blood off your hands and genitals.
   
   
9. Place the seared roast on a cutting board, and insert 6-9 peeled half cloves of garlic into the thickest part of the meat—take a small paring knife and stick it down, about halfway in and shove the clove in with your finger. When this is finished, grab that large hunk of fat, and make a cut about 3/4 of the way through, about halfway in from either end. Stuff some more halved garlic, as well as the rest of your onion in this "pocket." Yeah, you see now.
   
   
10. Season the roast with the chilis, L&P (only a little)—if it's not sticking, splash a little of the wine mixture on there. Once that's complete, apply a liberal rub of peppercorns and kosher salt. If it doesn't all stick, that's fine. Stick your head out of the kitchen and say "Dinner's almost ready dickheads."  Snicker quietly. You are lying. 
    
    
11. Stand the roast up in the pan, bone side down. It's fine if you have to move the cut up root veggies to make it stand up—the bone acts like a "rack." Some people prefer to have a roasting rack and a dripping pan on a lower rack in the oven. Those people are assholes. If you do that, you do not get roasted vegetables and your subsequent food pyramid is dangerously structurally unsound.
    
    
12. Place this in the oven, covered at 425 for about 25 minutes. After that, turn it down to 350. It should take anywhere between an hour and a half to two hours to reach the desired level of done. If you have a meat thermometer, that would really help. I prefer to wing it, because while I am proud to be Canadian, when I cook I am downright American. Do not cut the roast open to test it. This will cause all of the good juicyness to spill out like a first-year kid, first week in residence. However, your roast will not let you know it is hurting by yelling "I can't believe I've never had gin before," it will just dry out and suck. Commit to it man. If you undercook it, you can always cook it more by searing it in that frying pan you haven't cleaned yet.
    
    
13. When it's done, and your friends are good and angry, call one of them into the kitchen. Take the roast out and set it on a platter, and leave it alone for about 20 minutes. In the meantime, place the veggies in a large bowl and the remaining drippings / sauce in a small pot. Thicken this with flour, and get your no good friend to hold the strainer while you pour that nasty flour water into it. This gravy is amazing, and your friend will stop making fun of you. It's the best thing your friend has ever smelled. Reduce the gravy. Awkwardly ignore it when your friend says "I've always loved you," and attempts to kiss you. "Uh, dude," you should say, "not right now. I've got blood all over my genitals." You always had a suspicion, it's always the ones calling people "queer" eh? What's your friend's deal anyway? You never understood that whole "doth protest too much thing," but at the same time, you've never been in that situation yourself, so you really shouldn't judge. Deal with this uncomfortable situation tomorrow or something—that sounds like a problem for future you.
    
    
14. Slice the roast. Do it vertically, do it thickly. Serve this with buns and butter. Your idiot friends are going to want to sop up the badass gravy with a bun, and you better oblige them after the three hours of preparation-agony you just put them through.  
    
    
15. Cross arms. Smile with satisfaction. You are what you are.
    
    
16. Eat. Then, strut.  

One Year Off Your Life Sentence (For Good Behaviour)

I haven’t done a list for you in awhile.  Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but this should be relevant to your interests. 

1. Two of my most favorite records of this year involve people blowing up songs. “Tarot Sport” by ‘F-Word’ Buttons[1] and “Unmap” by Volcano Choir are both so, so similar in completely different ways. I recommend listening to them both, back to back, every day, constantly for the rest of your life, until you die.
    
2. Don’t you love it when your friends are brilliant? Today’s entry (permalink) managed to rip me out of my mid-morning grey constitution and crack a smile before 8 o’clock. There’s only four, five other things tops that could possible do that. That sounds like a lot? That’s relative to all things currently existing in the world. That’s like…thousands of things.
    
3. Procrastinating via internet. C’mon. This post took like 5 minutes. I need a break! Jeeze you’re mean. Also this thing right here;
   
   
   Spot. On.
    
4. ¡Feliz cumpleaños Xabi! I wish I knew you in real time, instead of just through your beautiful highlights.
    
5. Coffee, again. But only parts of it. See below. 
   
   
    
6. Calling my Grandmothers. What? They really appreciate it, and I learn things, like how Jacksoul passed away, and recipes for delicious holiday squares. If you think I’m kidding, you’re stupid and should take your own life.
    
7. The greatest fusion of two things I love in one gigantic, mural wrecking, landscape destroying explosion. If anyone feels like going dumpster diving for me while I’m trapped in academia, I’ll fit the bill.
    
8. I want all of you to do this, all my friends, all the people I care about. Then I want to put them all on a wall, with small nametags, and I want to light them from behind, and bask in the glory of your colours, sit there and laugh, and hug myself, and drink mint tea quietly thinking about what you’re all made of.

 [1] Look, I’m trying to be SFW okay? This is for your benefit, people who can’t get afford to get fired. Christ you people are lame. 

Rainy Season

To commemorate the beautiful white-hot spark that is the friendship between Adam and myself, I would like to share with you a preview of sorts. This will make more sense in a week or two's time. But for now, here is a little bit of a "behind the scenes" (lulz, really?) of some of the stuff we've worked on in the past that hopefully, some of which you'll get to hear very soon. Some other parts of it will never see the light of day. This video was shot this past January, mostly by my cat.

Ignore my high voice singing. This was the result of being snowed in, and a lot of alcohol.  

Didn't Even Have To Use My AK

That's right, it's been a good one. Actually, several good ones in a row. 

I'm sorry for neglecting you all lately. I know acknowledging it only proves how much of a jerk I am—somehow there's a nobility in being an eccentric who manages to forget things. If you remember, well, that just makes you an ass, and no amount of guilt you feel will take that away. 

Very soon I will have nearly a month off. I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself. Well, I mean, I know, but like, you understand the expression.

I just stopped in to let you know that my (and probably your) dear friend Adam is doing something extremely ambitious. You should be a part of it.

Also, why won't you come play with me?

I'll even give a you a drink! Look. I have vodka.

No, seriously, I'll let you know what this sounds like soon. Sadly, my recording rig is broken (of course it is), so if anyone has a spare one, or some technical know-how, or a couple hundred dollars to "lend" me, you know how to get ahold of me. 

And yeah, that's a blue cat mask. Yes, that is relevant. That'll make sense soon, recording box or not.

I wish none of you were where you are, because if you weren't there, there's a better chance you could be here with me. 

Wayne Coyne's Plastic Ball

I think that this may be my new favourite Flaming Lips song. It's that easy.

Also, don't do a search for the video, unless you want to see a lot of very naked people on bikes. Don't get me wrong, it's an amazing video, but...there are a lot of naked people on bikes. And you know what naked people on bikes is like.