A friend bought me black pepper from her family’s farm in India. So fresh and soft that when I crush a corn under a knife it simply deforms into a fiery fritter, bursting with flavor a hundred times its size. I ate a crushed corn thirty minutes ago and its floral aspects still linger on my tongue.
I apologize to Frida for sharing a picture showing her weepy eyes. We put so much medicine in them that there is almost always something seeping out. I should carry q tips or rebuy photoshop (I lost use of my copy five or ten years ago when I upgraded operating systems and it still makes me mad).
Happy Friday, y’all!