My agent says that if I keep posting recipes like this, he's going to put me on a rocket and launch me into space. I think he meant it as a threat, but that's not how I see it.

Hard Boiled Egg

One egg
Salt and pepper to taste

Place your heart on display, fearless and vulnerable and honest. If others want to criticize your vulnerability, let them; your worth comes from within. Your love grows stronger in hardship, never weaker. Raise patience and awareness up through sunbeams and on and on, above the white cottonscape of clouds. Walk raw through the world and forget shape; protect yourself only when you must. Trust whenever you can. Look people in the eye. Cry sometimes. When you get hurt, let it deepen your empathy and help you know how to heal others. Philosophize instead of isolating. Remember to play and to laugh. Oh, and then go boil an egg. And add some salt and pepper.

Serves one at best.
This recipe was received to me by my Kung Fu mentor moments before he died. Use it honorably.

The Shark of Possibility )

Thank you.
Time Travel Soup

I got this recipe from someone who was claiming to be a future version of me, but claiming to be someone from the future and then giving them information is probably the most immature time traveler prank in the book. Which is a clay tablet full of nanofiche files, if you must know.

2 tbsp. Sapphire Saffron, from the year 2115 AD
2 cups Pottage, from the year 1220 BC
16 diced Parsnips, from the year 13,000 BC or so
2 cups Forbidden Rice, from the year 1100 AD, when it was still really forbidden
5 gallons Chicken Stock, store bought, from the year 1955 AD
3 megaflemtoks Znebev Flesh, vat grown, from the year 20,001 AD
War, only, from the year 40,000 AD

Mix all ingredients in a temporally stable crockpot. Place crockpot in a Delorean and accelerate to 88mph. That doesn't have much to do with the recipe, I just thought you might be stuck in a soup-making rut and going for a nice fast drive might liven things up. Take the crockpot back inside and let it cook overnight at a low temperature. Refill with more chicken stock every few hours, or if that's too much of a hassle just fast-forward through time in two-hour hops and refill with more chicken stock each time. After twelve hours (objective time) ladel out.

Can be refrigerated, but that seems unnecessary since you can just transport it to the time when you'll be serving it.

Serves ten people, or ten copies of a single person throughout his and/or her life.
This recipe was recommended to me by the Norwegian Synæsthesia League. It's a jumbling, discordant dish, best served during the fall with seasonal vegetables. A great way to get ready for September.

Autumn Harvest Quartet

1 violin, adagio, dignified, serene
1 violin, allegro, playful, frivolous
1 viola, on fire, unforgivable
1 cello, adagio, dignified, serene, but also unforgivable
1 harp, cavatina, ethereal, uncountable

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit, and then preheat even more up to 400 degrees Celsius. Mix all ingredients in a large bowl until bright red and silky. Apologize to musicians and do not burn or harm them as you place all music inside oven. Bake until golden brown and fidgety.

Serves six people or ten individual chords.
I am not at liberty to say where I learned this recipe, but I can say with confidence that it is ****ly delicious.

Redacted Soup

2 t**. c******
3 *** salt, ***********
1 *** salt, non-*************
1 gallon gorilla ******, with *******
* cuos vegetable stock, laced with *****
Assorted soup ingredients, ********* but not **

Simulate lunar gravity. Toss all ingredients in a large pot. **** for 12 hours and serve.

Serves **** to *******-***.
I found this recipe in an old hotel recipe book.

Red Beans and Rice and Enlightenment

1 cup red beans
1 cup rice

Attain Enlightenment, but not the kind where you just come to peace with yourself and then go back to chopping wood and carrying water. More like the kind where you sit there meditating for a while and then you start glowing and getting awesome powers. Soak, cook, flavor, and cool red beans and rice using raw power of mind.

Serves six.

Lamb Stew

Aug. 4th, 2010 09:34 pm
A friend insists that this recipe makes for the best lamb stew she has ever had. I tried it and honestly I think it's only the second best lamb stew. All the same, I present her recipe to you without regrets or apologies.

Lamb Stew )

Serves one.
I found this recipe in an old cooking magazine from the 1920s that I found at the laundromat early, early, early this morning. The whole thing was bleach-stained so I had to guess what some of the words were. Actually, all of them.

Classic Cake )

Serves one. But which one?
I got this recipe from a funny little tea shop I like to frequent whenever I get the chance. It's a drive-through tea shop, and it's open 25 hours a day. Unlike most 25 hour-a-day tea shops, they don't use any time travel -- the couple that owns the place says that it spoils the flavor of the tea. Instead, the whole tea shop operates along a low-hanging airship that lazily drifts Westward against the rotation of the Earth to gently steal an extra hour every day. The couple that runs the place says that the primary benefit of tea is not to hurry, and so they like to live their lives with an extra hour every day. They say they spend that hour just sitting on a loveseat together, talking about whatever's on their mind, never worried about secrets, knowing that they have decades more to spend together. That's the sort of love they bring into every cup of tea at that low-drifting tea ship. It can be a little tricky maneuvering your car alongside the drive-through airship, but trust me: it's worth it.

Tea For A Lazy Airship )

Store frozen; keeps for decades. When ready to make tea, steep one teaspoon in a silver tea-ball into two quarts of near-boiling water.



Aug. 1st, 2010 09:22 pm
Usually, people have deoxyribonucleic acid in tiny amounts in the nucleus of every cell, right? But it's an acid. It's a substance, not some abstract free-floating information like the secret of human potential or something. If you extract it and collect it, you should be able to get enough of it that you could fill a measuring cup with the acid. I am guessing it would taste sour and not at all cannibalistic, but that's not the point. The point is this: my recipe for DNA pie. Try it. Note that if you eat a pie made with virus DNA you will probably get very sick and if you eat a pie with radioactive spider DNA you might get great powers and subsequently great responsibilities. I don't know whether you'll become immortal if you eat a pie made with the DNA of the Comte de St. Germain. Try it out and let me know!

DNA Pie )

Serves eight immortals, one superhero, or thirty thousand pie-eating radioactive spiders. Do not dilute! OK!
Last year, I had an opportunity to eat delicious stuffed zucchini flowers, prepared by one of my favorite people in the world. For those of you who haven't had a chance to try zucchini flowers, they are quiet edible and also very beautiful. They taste like a mild, sort of flowery zucchini, which I guess shouldn't be that surprising. Anyway, I didn't want to steal the recipe, so here's a new recipe for another way to prepare them.

Chocolate-Dipped Zucchini Flowers )

Serves thirty people or one person on a binge.
Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I mistranslated that old Hippocrates quote about letting your food be your doctor and your doctor be your food, which led to some awkward hijinx. I won't trouble you with the details, but I will tell you this: while I was in the middle of those hijinx, a mysterious woman offered me this recipe for Vuvuzela Stew.

Vuvuzela Stew

One (1) vuvuzela, assembled
2 gallons concentrated lye
2 gallons concentrated (18M) hydrochloric acid
Five (5) large brown potatoes
Six (6) large orange carrots
Zero (0) large purple eggplants
Vegetable stock
Salt and pepper to taste

Taste salt and pepper. Flavorful, no? Then throw them out over your left shoulder. While taste of salt and pepper is still in mouth, immerse vuvuzela in lye until it breaks down into a high alkali plasticky sludge. Titrate with hydrochloric acid until safe to consume. Chop potatoes, carrots, and lack of eggplants together and add to stew. Heat in a disproportionately huge saucepan until you realize what a terrible idea this is. Wish you had realized it before the whole titration thing. Throw away all ingredients and go get someone else to make you a tasty stew. Name that stew vuvuzela stew instead, after the stew you almost finished making. Giggle about the word vuvuzela over this new and more palatable stew.

Serves seven people and one angry parrot.

Laser Beer

May. 29th, 2010 08:57 pm
My friend Horace the Alien keeps sending me recipes from alien cookbooks. He says that they all feel very guilty about the whole How to Serve Man thing, and he insists that it was totally just a printing error. Most of the recipes are neither appetizing nor comprehensible -- the schnibitz and froth sounds atrocious, and I don't even want to conjecture about the 7015536-grokslom. One recipe so far sounds really good, however. I haven't tried it yet, because I rarely try recipes before posting them here, and because I don't think it's entirely possible without some specialized equipment, such as hertzigweisers and nuclear fålsquats. Nonetheless, here's the recipe for laser beer. I hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

Laser Beer )

(Thanks to Betty Baker, who assisted in writing.)

Drink frozen. Serves seven cockatiels. But not like that.
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a few weeks. I have a good excuse. )

Special thanks to the unstoppable saltdawg for requesting the recipe.
I have had a problem, lately, with all of these boys in my yard. They are trampling the lawn and blocking my driveway. They used to be on my neighbor's yard, and she drove them away. I asked her how she did it and she gave me this recipe.


1/2 pound negative strawberries from the mirror world, hulled and sliced with goatee shaved (thanks livrelibre!)
2 heaping tablespoons inverse sugar
1 teaspoon reverse vanilla extract
1 pint antimatter vanilla ice cream
1/2 cup antimilk (produced by running an anti-cheese factory bacward and then removing antirennet, antisalt, and anticulture. Anticulture can then be thrown away or used to create television shows.)

In mixing bowl combine the negative strawberries, inverse sugar, and reverse vanilla extract and stir. Set aside in Bizarro world for 20 minutes to an hour. Then pour all ingredients into a blender from the opposite hemisphere (so that it runs in the opposite direction) and blend until smooth.

Drives all boys from yard. May also destroy universe.

Alternately, drink someone else's antimilkshake with a long straw. Drink it up!
In 1981, the U.S. Department of Agriculture attempted to reclassify ketchup and pickle relish as vegetables, in order to allow public schools to cut out a serving of vegetables from lunch child-nutrition requirements. There was a media uproar and the policy was never implemented.

Nonetheless, this proposal brought me to ask what else is a vegetable.

I must conclude that the following are all vegetables:
- ketchup
- pickle relish
- parsley garnishing
- napkins
- patience
- kindness
- friendship
- frenemyship
("Make new frenemies/but keep the old/one is bitter/the other's cold")
- robots
- wage garnishing
- the text of the word "vegetable"
- actual vegetables

And so, a recipe.

Vegetable Salad

All the above vegetables.

Mix all ingredients in a bowl. Don't rush on the mixing -- remember, patience is a vegetable.

Serves ten.
Someone gave me some advice recently -- a coworker and mentor is away for a while and will be back soon, but I'm not sure what to do while she's gone. The advice that nameless someone gave me is this: if you've worked with her for so long you can probably predict what she would say. If something comes up when you need her advice, imagine what she'd advise.

Recipe Within )

Serves one pie's worth of people. Call up to memory frequently or risk the wisdom fading.
Having a song stuck in your head doesn't necessarily mean anything -- sometimes it just means that you're thinking about music.

Sometimes, though, when a song sticks in your head, it's because of a frustrated obsession.  Sometimes your brain can't move forward so it lingers on a song.  Sometimes some phrase or another lodges itself in your brain-meat like a dandelion seed stuck to your shirt, and then it carries the whole song through with it, shouting for attention and satisfaction that may or may not exist.

Such is the cost for having a brain.  Sometimes you can do something about it, and sometimes you cannot.

Having a song stuck in your head that does not exist -- sounds that can be made only in the perceptions and never in the air itself -- is a much bigger problem.  For that, you need these brownies.

Brownie Recipe to Get Imaginary Music Out of Your Head

1/2 cup butter
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
Former U.S. President Richard Millhouse Nixon 
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Do not preheat to a Celsius or Centigrade temperature as this may cause metric catastrophe. Grease and flour an eight-inch square pan. Melt the butter in a large saucepan. Remove from heat quickly and jealously, then stire sugar, eggs, and vanilla into the butter. Get a beater and add cocoa, flour, salt, and baking powder. Spread batter into prepared pan. Bake half an hour. Ask Mr. Nixon what he is doing in your kitchen and hey, isn't he supposed to be dead? If your electric beater has two metal beater-head things, lick one and offer the other to Tricky Dick. If it has only one, just wash it off instead.
Serves an undisclosed number of people.

When I first heard about this recipe I was worried it would be trouble.  The opposite has been true -- when I use this recipe, I am trouble.

Lemonade from the Sky


Get a large plastic bucket.  Place under a lemon tree near your home, in Springtime.  Every morning and afternoon, check on bucket.  Throw away any branches or leaves that have fallen in.  Peel any lemons, then wash and eat the rind.  Leave the peeled lemon fruit in the bucket.

Delegate your crying responsibilities to the sky.  Let the bucket collect rain, as it is springtime.

All the while, cultivate a sweetness in your life.  Try to be generous and merciful with others, and even more so with yourself.  Take time to appreciate what you (and others) have done right.  Continue until your sweetness reaches a rolling boil, then pour into the bucket.

By Summertime you will have a huge bucket full of lemonade from above.

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