Monthly Archives: October 2012

Welcome back lover, its nice to see you again.

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Friday that is, and in all your gloriousness you come back to me with your thermostat set to beautiful. I missed you. Please do not be in such a rush to leave me as I know you will. Let me enjoy and cherish you.

So as you may have noticed from my rather romantic or vomitus depending on your nature, opening statements the weather here in Florida has turned rather nice the last couple days. Furthermore its Friday and we all know what that means. Weekend freedom!

Last nights vice presidential debate went about as much as I suspected it would go. Vice President Biden better known as your drunken uncle barked, howled, flung his arms in the air and laughed between interrupting almost every word out of Paul Ryan’s mouth. Did he state anything of substance? Not particularly in my opinion. Obama came off as a pussy in the first debate and here comes Biden like a raving idiot. Very telegraphed response from the Obama administration and their mindless followers claiming the “old man” schooled the “young kid”. I thought Ryan handled himself professionally and much more maturely. The Romney team needs to clean up, and clarify some key subjects as abortion rights and tax reform instead of letting the Obama team intimate that they have no specific plan and that somehow no plan is much worse then a proven failing plan that we currently have with Obama. We’ll see what Romney does next week.

Lately I have been calling Lucas “Little Booty” more then I have been calling him by his name. There are a few issues at play here that I have been analyzing over in my head.

This dog’s southbound end is as cute as his northbound. When he is excited his whole butt shakes back and forth with the little nub of his tail doing the same thing. I cant help but laugh or smile. If the old saying “the sun shines even on a dogs ass at least once a day” is true this dog was born with his ass eternally planted in sun-shinny happiness. Naturally I have started calling him “Little Booty”.  Sorry, not sorry. Don’t Judge me.

If I call out to him “Little Booty” he will come running. He will also come to his name “Lucas”. Professionals will tell you that dogs don’t necessarily distinguish between the actual words or names more then the sounds and inflections of the words. No, go, and flow may all be the same to what a dog hears, but they become aware of the inflection of the words.

I mention all this because well, because it makes me feel better about calling my awesome little dog, “Little Booty” without feeling the least bit shamed or fixated on my dogs ass. He has a cute boot. What can I tell you?

Now for myself, standing in the street yelling, “LITTLE BOOTY” come, stay or heel? That is entirely a different matter. As much as I love the little dog, Im not willing to relinquish that masculinity or self respect yet. Well at least not when someone may be watching. LOL. So in those cases it’s back to “Lucas”. I find myself pausing from time to time when I am about to call Lucas, Little Booty that I need to also call him Lucas and mentally checking the “dog actual name and dog nickname” score card in my head to keep things even.

For the last three weekends, I have told myself that I will pressure clean the driveway. Now  in my defense one of those weekends it rained the entire time. The others however and my bad habit of procrastination has gotten the better of me. I should pressure clean the driveway right now. Coffee and this blog dictate much more important matters so the driveway goes further down the list of “get this shit done” things I really need to do. Its a brutal game I play with myself. I make a mental list of things, chores mostly, that I should do and I know if I do them all then I was very productive and I will even feel good about myself. Inevitably though I will not get to or really try to do all but the most necessary chores like laundry, house cleaning, grass cutting. I know this is going to happen every time. I make a list of things to do, know damn well I wont do the suckiest of chores, then feel shitty I let it slide again. Lather, rinse, repeat! It’s usually not until one of two things happen that I force myself to do the most crappy of chores. The complete and utter shame of having blown the item off for so long I cant stand to look at the situation any more, or I think I may impress a cute girl. Hey no shame. Even Hitler had a nice piece of ass. Didn’t do anything with it cause he had no penis but none the less, women make this world function.

Well thats it for now. I am about three recipes in the hole for the blog I need to work on, my coffee is getting low and then there is the damn driveway. Anyone want to take bets on what actually gets done? Hint safe money says watch the recipe section and find out.

Little Booty Lucas has his priorities set.

 

You don’t have to play

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You can follow or lead the way. 
 I want you to join together with the band,
We don’t know where we’re going,
But the season’s right for knowing,
I want you to join together with the band.

It’s humpday Wednesday again. I find myself wondering when will this awfully slow week end? Time just seems to be dragging along this week. This nonsense doesn’t happen between Friday afternoon and Monday morning.

Tomorrow is the vice presidential debate. I am eagerly waiting to see how Paul Ryan handles himself. My personal opinion is that a fifth grader should be able to intellectually checkmate Mr. Biden, but I am not assuming anything in this election. Paul Ryan is a smart man and he should decisively put the old fool away. Fingers are crossed.

Oh yeah, this just in. Don’t eat cockroaches for something so ridiculous as a free pet snake. Eating cockroaches generally isn’t harmful but being a dumb ass is proving to be lethal. A pet snake? Really? Ah NO.  A new Harley? Sure. A date with Jenny McCarthy and a bottle of Rohypnol? You betcha! Not a free pet snake.

Does anyone out there watch the seminal cable show on FX, Sons of Anarchy? In the last two weeks its beat everything on TV ratings wise. Kurt Sutter is the creator and writer. Its about a fictional motorcycle club. If you have not watched this program I suggest you get your Netflix fired up to catch the first three seasons, and by the time you are done with that you can catch the forth season playing now. Or is this currently the fifth season on TV now?  Hell I don’t know, but the show is 110% awesome. You don’t have to be a biker, like motorcycles, or Honey Boo Boo to like this show. The writing is perfection. I wont give any spoilers here. Watch it and come back with a two page written report for next weeks homework. Ok kidding about that last part. I was just testing out my school teacher voice.

Bananas are an awesome food. Potassium is good for your brain and the rest of your body. I like to eat bananas. Not when I am on the boat fishing. That shit is bad luck. All other times though bananas are fabulous. I especially like when I forget to eat bananas and they turn all brown and black. I turn that into banana bread. I have some in the oven right now.

Kelly Ripa made some flippant stereotype comment on her talk show yesterday about gangster dogs are probably some sort of mean Pit Bull type dogs. The internet is in an uproar about it and frankly I don’t blame it. Pit Bulls get a tremendously bad rap and its mostly by a very minority few people who know absolutely nothing about dogs at all. I’ve had in some way or other pit bulls all my life. My mother who will jump out of a moving car on the New Jersey Parkway if a bee flies into the window, has had Pit Bulls for years. Most of my close friends have one or more, and I happen to work with anywhere from a bakers dozen of them every week. In the care of knowledgeable, and loving people these dogs are probably one of the best breeds on the planet. The bad reputation these dogs have gotten over the years is in my opinion been a direct result of the people whom have owned the dogs.

Dogs are a lot like guns. There are toys that shoot caps and go bang that children can play with, and there are .50 Cal riffles that will bring down jumbo jets. Both guns in the proper hands and respected are safe and can be happily owned. If you give one of these guns to an idiot, even the toy cap gun can hurt somebody. Pit Bulls are much the same way, except the Pit Bull by its natural build is more towards the .50 Cal riffle then the toy cap gun in my above analogy. In abusive hands a Pit Bull can hurt someone. However in a loving home with responsible owners these dogs are some of the most loving and loyal dogs out of all the breeds.

That’s about it. Oh, I forgot to mention, I put chocolate chips in the banana bread.

That’s what I got for a Wednesday. Hang in there folks Friday is in sight.

B-cool
B-real
B-rock

I’ll meet you any time you want

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In our Italian restaurant. 

It is another Monday. Beware of the suckage. So far mine isn’t too bad and the weekend was nice.

The dinner club met again this weekend hosted by my friends Amy and Allen with six of our other close friends to even include a few associated children.

A funny thing, Amy was concerned that this meet up couldn’t be classified as an official “Dinner Club” assembly because she invited eight people, when in the past it was only been four of us. I explained to her that it was nonsense and it still counted as “Dinner Club” and that the more people the better. My home is a little smaller and I had set the precedence in the meet ups to four people, but as I think about it more and more I can feed and entertain more then four and I am going to do it next time. At least I’ll extend the invitation. Folding chairs and a TV tray around the table here I come.

Amy and Allen made one damn nice dinner. Sausage and peppers over spaghetti, garlic bread, and Cesar salad. Dessert was a lemon cake with whipped cream topping. It was an excellent meal, with a great group of friends.

There are a few thoughts I came away with from the dinner club meet up from last night. The first being, as a single middle aged man, my home is decorated or should I say lack of decorating in a very appropriate manner. I am not sure how I feel about it either. I am not messy, or ultra neat and my tastes are pretty utilitarian. There is no warmth here. The house is mine and its home but there is admittedly no woman’s touch. I don’t have an eye for decorating. I can spot good color combinations, good furniture and arrange them in appropriate ways to use space wisely and efficiently, but beyond that I am useless and have no idea. Pictures, plants, window treatments, table-scape, and I am like a politician is to honest. Just not there. It is not that I don’t want or wish my home had the warmth of a discerning eye of a great woman, its just I can definitely see that my home lacks it for certain.

The next thing I came away with is the reinforcement of the meaning of friendship. My refrigerator like most in the free world is a place for pizza, pest control, and other associated magnets. These magnets hold pictures of things I enjoy looking at. My nieces, goddaughter, and my dogs. A few years ago, Amy, Allen and myself would take our dogs (Lucille and Tucker) out on Amy and Allen’s boat to the intracoastal / sandbar and let the dogs swim and run all day. Amy took some pictures of Tucker and Lucille a few years ago and those pictures have been on my refrigerator ever since. Last night at dinner, Amy pointed out one of the same pictures of Lucille and Tucker on her refrigerator. Now I know for a fact Amy has had this picture of Tucker and Lucille on her fridge for some time. I have seen it there before. Last night however when Amy pointed out the picture to me, I dawned on me that these are friends. Lucille not only lives on in a pictures in my house with her buddy Tucker, but she also lives on in the thoughts of Amy and Allen too. All too often in our busy lives we forget and take for granted small things like friendships and people in our lives. All it takes is a simple picture on a refrigerator to remind you of that goodness. Last night I was reminded of that goodness again. When I thought no one was looking Tucker got a piece of my lemon cake right from my fork that I happily used after to keep eating the cake from his mouth to mine.

Today I am making turkey pot pie from scratch. I’ll post the recipe and writeup in the recipe section later. Its a good way to get rid of a lot of crap in the kitchen. You’ll enjoy this one.

Today I am also going to set up the end grain cutting board ordering page come hell or high water. I almost had it done Friday, but I broke the database with the application I had for the online ordering and spent most of Friday fixing what I broke. After some research and simplification I will try again.

Stay tuned.

Weekend, oh how I have missed you.

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Its another beginning to another great weekend. It’s no greater then any other weekend other then the fact its the weekend and by definition all weekends are simply great. The only bad part is I’ll sit down, take a deep breath and relax for five minutes today, and then I’ll look at the clock and it will be 9:00pm Sunday night. Why does this happen? It seems whenever we slow down, and take it easy with the notion of not having to do anything or do things we enjoy doing, (not working) then time all of a sudden shifts into warp speed.

Of all the drugs and dope heads in the history of time making substances to alter our reality and lower our inhibitions, why hasn’t some genius or better yet why hasn’t some pharmaceutical company chemist made a simple drug that gives the user the impression of time slowing way down? I have never done LSD. Does this happen with that drug? Well that and the hallucinations of dogs talking to you telling you to kill prostitutes and John Lennon but I digress.

How great would it be to just pop a pill that slowed time way down? Not slow motion time where everyone is talking SSSSSSLLLLLLOOOOOOWWWW, but just like it gives the user the impression that hours have passed by but when they look at the watch its only been five minutes. I know its easy to make this drug. The properties are in the air around emergency rooms, the DMV and driver licenses offices, waiting for a pot of water to boil when you watch it, dating ultra hot mormon women who are miraculously still virgins at 25+ years of age. (don’t ask me how I know) Yes so I know the elements for this miracle drug exist naturally in nature. We just need to find a way to bottle and pill it up and someone is going to be rich and the rest of us are going to be eternally happy. The drug companies have got be close to a breakthrough. After all the pills already exist to give people four hour boners. Now just give me month long weekends.

I would only make sure that the drug companies fix the boner viagra and the weekend time viagra to cancel each other out if both are taken at the same time. Frankly if I get month long weekends and compound that with four and six hour medically induced boners, Bob Barker from the Price is Right is going to have to come out of retirement to make commercials to spay and neuter people like me. That wont end well. The next thing you know, I got those whale wars bastards coming after me in the Steve Irwin boat. Since I’m on the weekend time viagra, I’ll be running away for hours and hours and never seeming to get away with a sign on my boner that says “Government research only”.

I think this is a bucket list moment. I just made a blog post about boners, Bob Barker, and Whale Wars tied together in a few simple paragraphs about how I envision great weekends. Classy yet informative. I am a natural at this.

So that is whats on my mind this morning. Yes I know. No need to state the obvious. Sometimes I am just not right. Like I’d ever put a sign on my boner about government research. Pfttt. 😉

I’ll close this hoping everyone has a good weekend. To the readers whom have shown interest in the custom end grain cutting boards, I haven’t forgotten. Watch the blog the next couple of days for the dedicated information and ordering page I am setting up.

Love and peace to each other and if it cant be remember one thing. No one can keep a secret of getting rid of a body forever. You do that job alone.

When tragedy befalls you, don’t let it drag you down

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Love can cure your problems,
You’re so lucky I am around. 

I havent been fortunate enough to have any children of my own yet so the closest comparison I can relate to are my dogs. They have been as much my children to me as a kid is to a parent I venture to guess. Its with that understanding I relate this story.

Recently I got news of an old friend of mine whom tragedy of the worst kind has befallen. The hows and whys are not important but I’ll tell you when I say the worst kind, yea worst kind. A parent having to burry a child. Even though in this case it was a step child, but knowing this person it hardly would have mattered to her. This person was always an open hearted type woman that seemed to like or at least give everyone a fair chance so biological or step child probably had no real distinction to her anyway.

When I heard the news, of course you go through the emotions of loss and heartache for that person. I couldn’t help but think about my Golden Retriever, Lucille whom I lost this summer to cancer/tumor at only four and a half years old.

I can’t remember my parents or brothers birthdays without looking it up somewhere. I cant remember anniversaries, valentines day (any wonder I dont have kids?). I know my own birthday and the Marine Corps birthday. I also know June 11, 2012.

On June 11th of this year, after dropping my sick dog off to a veterinarian for emergency surgery I got “That” call.

Mr. Kingston we got her on the table and opened her up and it was bad. I worked as fast as I could to fix her up, the mass on her spleen was large. I got it all out, but due to the blood loss and anemia her heart was going a million miles an hour. She arrested just as I was finishing up. We got some meds into her and I got her heart re-started once. Five minutes later she arrested again and nothing I could do would get her going again. I’m so sorry.

That was it. That was all I had left of Lucille. I think I held it together long enough to thank the doctor for trying and hung up the phone. I ah, yea, I collapsed after that and the rest of the day is gone from my memory.

Parenthetically sure Lucille was my “child”. What the hell was I going to do now? I know those deep horrible feelings of loss. I felt horrible for my friend Gabrielle. This wasn’t a pet for her, this was a child. If I felt that way over a dog, a pet, how can you quantify that when its another person? Its not so hard for me. My pets have always been my kids. Maybe if I have a kid one day I’ll see the difference, but I somehow doubt it. So in a way, I know where my friend Gabrielle and her family is right, now. It’s shit.

But I also know something else. Something else I am certain Gabrielle will later get to feel too.

You see after an amount of time, that only you know the amount of, “love” comes back through your door. Love from your family, friends, your pets you lost, and the people you may have lost. That love and time, fixes everything and shines the light of perspective back into your life. All you have to do is let it in.

I volunteer a few hours a week at an animal shelter for an obligation for me and for Lucille. I rescued a dog from that shelter that I connected with. This is how the love I had for Lucille has manifested itself back into my life. The work is sometimes gross and a pain, but I come home and see Lucas jump on a particular couch and look out the window, just like a certain Golden Retriever did her entire life and I know what I am doing and the path I am on is the right one. That is my love.

I have cursed god, cursed doctors, cursed luck, cursed myself, cursed everything over the loss of Lucille. I needed to curse all those things. I needed the time to curse all those things. Now, I am done.

I got plenty of love back in my life and thats good enough. When i see Lucille and Jasper again with Lucas and whatever other four legged children I may have in my life, I’ll be a bigger baller that that bastard Cesar Millan, and I wont be whispering shit with my pack. We’ll be running and swimming with War Pigs turned up to fucking 11.

Gabrielle, If you read this, I miss you and I love you. Be strong and you got this!

Beef Rouladen

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Beef Rouladen is a German dish that is simple to make and an excellent way to break up the monotony of a tired recipe rotation.

Ingredients:

  • 6 beef round steaks sliced thin
  • Stone ground mustard or Dijon
  • 6 slices of bacon cooked
  • 6 green onions or scallions trimmed
  • 2 carrots peeled and quartered lengthwise
  • 6 dill pickle spears
  • Olive oil
  • 3 medium cloves of garlic minced
  • 2-1/2 cups of chicken stock
  • 1/2 cup red wine
  • 1/4 cup of all purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup water

Procedures.

Assemble your ingredients together ready to go. (mise en place) Thats a fancy French term for “get all your shit together and ready in place”.

Heres the cast of characters. Meat, carrot, green onion, bacon, pickle, and mustard.

NOTE* Tradition indicates the roulades are tied with butchers twine and at first I was motivated but then when I started putting the roulades together I was like, “damn this” and pulled out the tooth picks to secure the meat. So use toothpicks.

Ok so lets make some roulades. Take each one of your thin sliced round steaks and place between sheets of plastic wrap. Hammer the meat out flat with a meat mallet/tenderizer or a small frying pan. Hammer the meat flat like 1/4″ to 3/8″ thick. Not necessarily paper thin but thin.

Take the meat, and spread your spicy mustard all over it. Then very simply take a piece of each one of the following ingredients bacon, carrot, green onion, pickle and place on edge of mustard covered meat. Now simply roll up into a small cigar shaped roll.

Take your toothpicks and secure the end of the meat to itself so it stays together. One or two toothpicks is all you need. Continue the process until all the roulades have been assembled.

Heat a pan with some olive oil over medium high heat and brown the roulades on all sides. About six (6) minutes total. Season with salt and pepper.

Once you brown all the meat, add your chicken stock and wine. Reduce the heat to medium low, cover and simmer for about 1-1/2 hours.

After an hour and a half of simmering, carefully remove the roulades to a plate, and return the pan they came out of with cooking liquid to medium high heat.

Mix your flour and water together in a small bowl. Now pour the flour/water mixture into the pan with the cooking liquids. Stir together with a whisk and bring to a boil. The sauce will thicken to a gravy but bring it to a boil and continue to whisk for a couple minutes. Now you have gravy! Return the roulades to the pan with the gravy to heat through.

Heat through for about five minutes or so. You are ready to eat.

NOTE* Please remove the damn toothpicks! I know I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but really I don’t need any feedback about how one of you ate the freaking toothpicks and needed emergency surgery to get the thing out of your throat.

There you have it. Beef Rouladen is generally served with spaetzle, buttered noodles, mashed potatoes, boiled potatoes, red cabbage. Choices are endless.

Make this, its not hard and the time frame isn’t too bad. Probably not a weeknight meal, for the busy working and those with children but its so worth it. Don’t let the flavors of meat, gravy and pickles scare you. Its good.

When you eat this food, you’ll be compelled to making angry speeches, blitzkrieging your ass all over the house and wanting to bomb out the homeowners association with your Luftwaffe BMW and Volkswagens!

 

Belgian Waffles

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Ingredients

  • 2 cups all purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 3-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 2 eggs, separated
  • 1-1/2 cups milk
  • 1 cup of butter, melted
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

In a bowl whisk to combine the flour, sugar and baking powder.

In another bowl, beat the egg yolks. Add milk, melted butter, and vanilla extract. Mix well.

Stir wet ingredients into dry ingredients in bowl number 1 until just combined.

Beat eggs whites until firm peaks form. Fold beaten egg whites into batter now in bowl number 1.

Batter will be very stiff and airy. Spoon batter into pre-heated waffle maker to manufactures specifications for amount per serving. My waffle maker makes rather deep eight inch waffles. This recipe makes enough batter to make about four complete waffles.

Eat and enjoy.

Good morning sunshines or shut up get coffee!

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Here were are again. Another Monday another start to another wonderful week of work, and otherwise monotonous skullduggery to get us through to the next weekend. Never fear because I am here to help.

Finally this weekend I have found that Justin Bieber and myself have something in common. YES, can you believe it? I was utterly shocked as well. It seems we both feel the same exact way about his music and concert performances. Take a look. This is a full dose of awesome sauce from me to you. Well that is if awesome sauce is say….. a bag of Doritos and a quart of spoiled milk?

Who is singing while ol’ Bieb’s his hurking out his dinner on stage?

Does anyone have even the slightest idea of how pathetic this is? This little hump has something like a trillion followers on Twitter, Facebook, mommywasaslut.com

How is this Rock and Roll? How is this cool? Do you know how many hotel rooms Led Zeppelin trashed to be cool. How many times Keith Moon had to be carried off stage passed out from behind his drum kit in a puddle of his own piss and vomit. Hell even Axl Rose doesnt show up to his shows until he has combed all his pubic hairs, had his special Chai tea and painted his toenails.

Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison, Moon, Rhodes, Vaughn, Cobain, Staley is it any wonder why they all checked out long before their time? Maybe they were all visionaries that saw music heading into the abyss we now find ourselves mired in. If thats the case, who can blame them?

In any event, to watch Mr. Bieber puke and vomit while hunched over ass out to his adoring fans is a win for me on any Monday in my book. Enjoy.

Coffee is ready. Hang on a second and let me sooth my nerves.

Ahhhhh. That’s much better. Let’s continue shall we?

Football this weekend? Ugh! The Jets were supposed to play the 49’ers. Did anyone even notice if they showed up for the game? Who were the people wearing the green and white uniforms? Well a loss is a loss I guess. If you’re going to take a beating no sense in spending energy or risking additional injury defending against the inevitable.

October is an exciting month this year. Let me rephrase that last sentence. This particular October should be an exciting month. Presidential and vice presidential debates take place. If Mitt Romney has half a brain in his Mormon head or by chance someone running his election campaign has half a ball sack, they will have instructed and throughly prepared him to eviscerate President Obama to his soulless core every single question every single debate. Governor Romney needs to go for the throat and kill this bastard.

If it were me, nothing would be off limits. No matter the time limit or the question content. I would somehow for every time I open my mouth bring about the questions of Obama’s past. Topics would include but not limited to:

  • Obama’s communist father Frank Marshall Davis.
  • Obama’s association with Acorn and the typical Chicago corruption.
  • Obama’s association with Bill Ayers, Rev. Wright
  • Obama’s bogus SSN#
  • Obama’s college transcripts
  • Obama’s nepotism  in Chicago for getting Michelle $300,000/year hospital job (turning away indigent patients to other hospitals…IRONY),
  • Obama buying his home with assistance with felon Tony Rezko.
  • All the way down to his nose job and plastic surgery. Who is hiding why change appearances?

I would slit his throat in the debates!

The bullshit this President has pulled over the mindless sheep in this country boarders on criminal. We’ll see if Romney plays it safe or goes for the kill. If he has any sense he’ll realize what the play it safe and passive route got John McCain in 2008.

Do your homework folks. Look past the silly 15 and 30 second sound bites on TV and ask questions. The answers are out there. Just don’t be too shocked about the answers you find to your questions when you start to think on your own.

Enough political commentary for today. These thoughts are mine and mine only. I respect everyones position and theres room here for all.

Oh yeah, my birthday and Halloween is in October too!

Nothing special this weekend from the corporate kitchens with the exception of Belgian Waffles and a decent Pizza Slut clone of cheese sticks/bread. Keep your eyes on the recipe section for those entries.

However, today in appreciation and honor of Octoberfest. I will be making beef rouladen with a dill spaetzle. Some serious German eats yo! Or is that Yohan? Or Gunther or Wolfgang? Whatever, some good German food today. Will post the results later.

The blog has been alive about two months now. I have been thinking about some commercial interests and since we have been discussing a lot of food lately, it may be about time to introduce you to another passion of mine, woodworking. Some of you may already know this and  to some this may be new. I like wood. I have wood. 😉

Generally I have built mostly furniture, and some custom cabinetry. What I have enjoyed making in the past which have made great gifts and an obvious tie in to my love of making and shoving food down my throat is beautiful end grain cutting boards. Take a look.

I am thinking about making more cutting boards and selling them through this web site / blog. As you can see there are no limitations to color, size, or shape. The beauty to a properly made end grain cutting board is not only its appearance in your home, but if you are the least bit anal about your knives and cutlery you use in your kitchen then cutting food on an end grain cutting board is the best for your knives and keeps your blades sharper longer.

If you’re like me and pay upwards of $150+ for a professional Shun chef’s knife you care about trivial things like this. Everyone is like me right? LOL. Ok so you’re not so anal retentive or a maniac perfectionist when it comes to these matters. Well these cutting boards look damn good in any kitchen, and with minimal care last as long as you will live.

You want one of these cutting boards. You must have one of these cutting boards. You want one of these cutting boards for yourself, and you want to buy another to give to someone you care about for Christmas or the upcoming holidays. You must have one! When you sleep at night you dream about them! It’s all you can think about! You want to be the first one on your block to have your very own Whats Up Brock end grain cutting board.

Well my friends don’t you worry. I always got your back. In the next couple of days, I’ll provide the information to you on this very site/blog for you to order your very own What’s Up Brock end grain cutting board.

Be ready to jump when I open up the ordering flood gates. It’s going to be first come first serve. You will want to get in early for delivery in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons.

I know what your already thinking. “What are you going to do with the money fat ass?” I’ll tell you. I am going to get drunk and buy hookers. What the hell do you think? Ok I am kidding. Honest. I am however going to donate some of the proceeds to some charitable organizations that have moved me lately and need our help. So in a way by ordering a cutting board from me, you not only win by owning a one of kind, beautiful piece of kitchen/household functional “art” you will also be a part of helping some neglected dogs/cats and some truly deserving injured and broken Veterans and their families.

So stay tuned. You’ll want to be a part of this.