Now that you’ve had your rage with the #Fattouch / #FatDouche case which turned up to a dead end, let me unleash my rage against something more important and deserves blocking roads, burning flags, demonstrations, protests and some vegetables chopping. TABBOULEH! (i have to note the sarcastic tone, because sometimes things are only funny in my head)
I am a Tabbouleh extremist. It kills me to watch a chef massacring what he/she claims to be the real tabbouleh from the middle east (and I will not specify the country of origin because that’s a whole different debate)
Still skeptical about homemade nut butters?
Here’s another one to try.
The first time I tried peanut butter, I bought a common brand jar. The content was firm like soft cheese and can be scooped, actually cut leaving the spoon clean. I tried it and was not impressed at all. A thick fatty and salty mixture with a very unpleasant taste.
Tasting other brands in giving it another chance got me hooked. But looking at the ingredients, I got concerned. Yes, I read the label. And you should too.
I snapped a few photos of the ingredients of peanut butter jars available at a supermarket. See for yourself.
I’m a fan of making things from scratch. Whenever I can, I seize the chance. Spending time on Pinterest and Buzzfeed looking at interesting and pinning interesting DIYs to try is a fun activity, yet most of them never come to life.
I’m writing this letter to tell how much I love you
Even though you’re bad for me, I still love you and want you. I wouldn’t mind having you at any time, however you are.
How can I begin to describe you. I’ll mention what I like about you; your warmth, your softness, your stiffness, your sweetness, the contrast of your saltiness, your dark color, the way you make me dirty and make my hands, fingers and beard sticky and sweet, and how happy you make me. You make me utter sounds I keep locked away.
I have to apologize for trying to mess with you, for trying to change you. It was a disastrous idea. I should’ve known I wouldn’t get the same result. I messed up and we ended up apart. I, without you, and you, in the trash can.