Tamalehawk hasn't updated the tractate in a lamentably long time. That doesn't mean that his culinary excursions aren't worthy of review. It is high grilling season, after all. Tamalehawk is a grilling mercenary, swooping undetected into yards and porches with talons outstretched to swipe stray chops and dogs. When the Weber smoke clears, though, the bird must turn back to captive prey. What is this, for example? It's nothing, a mess. But he has eaten this mess several times already because it is fast, uses the right resources, and tastes strangely awesome.
It's true, everyone. Broiling salami makes it taste a lot like bacon. Except like a more powerful, shameful, and severe kind of bacon. The kind that will induce pangs of guilt and deep organ pain with each bite but tastes too great with eggs and toast to succumb to. Do not eat more than three pieces though, because you will probably murder your earthly vessel. Your spirit, however, will soar above the clouds with salty abandon.
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