through the desert - pt.2
July 11th, Post farmer’s market and fuckin’ around
Tonight we entertain Tracy. Jupiter and I welcome her to El Rancho with the following delights:
Frozen Grapes and those God Damn Watermelon Mezcal Coolers
The Seed - a '“pudding” of tomato and cucumber seeds, thickened with chia seeds, topped with toasted and seasoned sunflower seeds and puffed amaranth, sprouts and sweet herbs
Salmon Tartare - lemon cucumber, preserved lemon, and chive sprouts
Pan Fried Desert Dates and Dandelion - toasted sourdough and chimichurri
Red Quinoa with Sun-Dried Tomatoes and Peaches grilled over the fire. Served with fire roasted Romesco sauce, almonds also toasted over the fire, and edible desert succulents
Fresh Plums with honeycomb and Greek yogurt
Popcorn and chocolate by the fire.
Saturday almost dinner time
A bunny with broken back legs pulls itself into the shade of a cactus with his worthless front legs. I stare out over the kitchen sink - a bit of a repose as i prepare a casual six course dinner. Blue and white light fill me. The desert is one hell of a place, man.
Sunday around lunchtime, a bit trippy
The mirror sucked me in again. I look at my chipped tooth with my glasses removed and go right back to searching for my specs on the linoleum floor of a 7-11 in Tokyo at 2am. I remember the baby dick Yakuza wannabe that knocked them off my face with the punch that chipped my tooth. A bloody sliver of ivory on my tongue. The empathetic Jamaican yardies that bought me water to rinse the blood from my mouth. The American with the weed at the reggae show i made a pilgrimage across Tokyo to just after the incident. Waking up to a foot massage on the 3rd floor of Bonobo - a quaint little hidden club that was part Yoda hut, part dojo, part underground techno club in an unassuming Tokyo neighborhood.
Monday 7-13 second breakfast time
Possibly the first morning without a hangover. I’d like to thank the twenty minute dirt drive in to town for keeping me (mostly) sober last night. Don’t trip - we still had plenty of mezcal and plant medicine all around.
Our guests last night were Yanni and Aiyanna, two beautifully mystical strong stars that swirled around each other all night, simultaneously creating and basking in the most lovely light. Yanni - a pastor, poet and artist that spoke like it and Aiyanna - a healer with some seriously divine energy graced the dining room at El Rancho for yet another magical evening. I was humbled to be given the opportunity to create space for these beautiful beings to experience life together. What happens at the table is of the highest order. I’m merely here to enhance the gathering with intentional sustenance, balance, harmony and hospitality.
As I watch Jupiter paint the third piece of his triptych, I look forward to building more on our experiences together in the desert.
7-13 Post Panzanella
Of all the food, booze, aromatherapy, massage, plant medicine and stunning visuals I truly think the biggest spoil has been the music. To be able to listen to dope music from moments after waking up to moments after calling it a night has been nothing short of auditory gluttony. So much God Damn Jazz.
A good panzanella is like good oral sex - the sloppier the better. I want those croutons soaked. Heirlooms from the market with Thai basil, extra virgin olive oil, chili infused red wine vinegar, and toasted, torn bread. Cracked pepper, flakey salt, sometimes a bit of garlic. Don’t forget to let it soak.
7-15 Post Coffee Pre Brekkie
Rose quartz looking out at me over a book of selected poems by T.S. Elliot that I slowly recited last night to a reclined Jupiter in a turned down room filled with fucked up shadows.
Regard the moon, La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into the corners,
She smooths the hair of the grass,
The moon has lost her memory
She is alone.
A cackling of traveling banshees cracks into my sound waves - a rolling tumbleweed of screams, laughs and cries, distorted by nocturnal winds, rouses me from fireside meditation. Coyotes, out for the night, have broken the stillness of the fire at my back and the spilling open cosmos in front of me. Why are you crying.
As quickly as the wind brought in the concert it whisked it away for the rest of the desert to be haunted by. Eyes closed, back to the sounds of the fire, the winds through the chaparral and the Tibetan bells playing from the cactus. I see myself here on this massive planet right now. In line with the elements and ready for the future.
Fried Green Tomatoes
One of the better bites of the week had to be the panko breaded fried green tomatoes with guacamole and flowering coriander. We didn’t have buttermilk to soak the green tomatoes, but a bit of plain yogurt did the trick. Tomatillo and desert papalo salsa verde, chips, Pacificos and mezcal drinks helped make it all make sense.
