The Cultivar

Michael Pollan's complex codex wrecked Tamalehawk's head as he read it, stirring up a dozen or so tiny dilemmas for his heavily omnivorous lifestyle. Why doesn't he try harder to eat locally? Why are mushrooms so weird? Why is this part about corn so long? Despite feeling interminable, Tamalehawk was interested in learning about the dark mark that poor corn has worn for the last several decades on its journey from imperial cereal to sad scourge. He also largely stopped buying HFCS, because he felt he really wanted to take some kind of stand. While he never reconsidered his commitment to carnivory, he did make an oath to eat more produce and started reading labels as a matter of habit.

Speaking of corn, Tamalehawk made these bacon-cheddar corn muffins for breakfast recently. Sliced, slathered with butter, and drizzled with honey, these golden grenades made the 59 cent box of Jiffy mix sing. The best part? A leftover mug of bacon grease, Tamalehawk's favorite forbidden condiment.

Choosing Sides

Tamalehawk grabbed this cache of basking links from Lincoln Quality Meats, a trusted stalwart part of any Lincoln Square dance. This familiar ditty also always involves a visit to the The Grind, and an update on the massive two-story Gene's Sausage Shop that looms in the heart of the square itself, a stone fortress of a deli opening later this year. Seems like a butcher war is brewing.

This homemade Italian sausage made a cosmic connection with its produce soulmates, peppers and onions, in a very affordable one-pot meal that had Tamalehawk sipping the liquid at the bottom of the casserole dish with all kinds of abandon. He can't bring himself to apologize.

On The Rise

Tamalehawk has secretly longed for a signature hash, a matchless morning marvel that beckons beaks from nearby nests and abruptly erupts from local lore to international infamy.

While he may still be waiting for a federal hash grant, this was no doubt a significant breakthrough. Tamalehawk tossed potato, onion, carrot, and apple into the snarling awaiting blades of his food processor. He squeezed the excess water out to ensure a brazen browning, spiced liberally, and fried until a concord of crunch and soft was created. Make sure to lay an over-medium egg on top so the broken yoke soaks into the savory shreds. Babyhawk also inhaled this one, dangerously wielding an adult fork with one wobbly wing.

The Power of Suggestion

It's true Tamalehawk might fight anyone who'd suggest there is something better than homemade cookies. It turns out, though, there's one exception: unexpected homemade cookies that, holy hell, are ridden with hidden hazelnuts.

These discoidal delicacies went from raw materials to totally devoured in less than fifteen minutes. Carefully crafted by Tamalehawk's brother, a persistent peregrine, as a reticent rejoinder to a casual challenge, Tamalehawk singed his wings eating these immediately from the oven. The next day, these four stragglers were still as soft as the day they were born.

In The Red

Plenty of lentils have met a demented end in the crowded and caliginous corners of Tamalehawk's cabinets. He typically picks a solemn sack of the red ones because they cook fast and have a pleasing appearance. He mentally catalogs his many intentions for them before promptly prodding the package into any open zone, crammed on cannelloni and draped over staples.

Luckily, Babyhawk loves these things, causing Tamalehawk to use them in a sudden soup including leeks, carrots, celery, and spices. Splash the veg with sherry vinegar while sautéing to get that critical acid in there. When the lentils were soft, he blasted it with his emulsion blender and finished with cilantro. Babyhawk beaked this for a week.

Blank Canvas

Maybe it was a lot to ask of a Triscuit. Maybe Tamalehawk should have been content to relent to the cracker's meager reason; eat it plain and refrain from the strain of glopping a topping on its cratered plane. But this wasn't just an idle snack. This was lunch.

Piled with peanut butter, celery, raisins and sunflower seeds, the cracker became a vast valley of promise and potential. Salty, sweet, crunchy and consumed in one bite, Tamalehawk wracked his brain for further modifications. Chili sauce? Pineapple? He vowed to visit the Triscuit lunch again. Also: Ten minutes into Top Chef and he is already enraged with that colossal douchebag Mike. Someone please suvee his face off.

If It Bleeds

Tamalehawk accidentally presents Part 1 of the Use Your Arugula series, wherein he scrambles to save the tiny leaves from a grievous descent into the garbage by tossing them on top, tucking them in, or burying them beneath any other food item being consumed. As the sad yellow tinge starts to hamper their hue, he'll resort to just eating them despondently straight from the container.

Here, Tamalehawk tried in vain to painstakingly recreate the cover of Bon Appétit, and immediately butterflied the chicken upside down, misplacing the spine and exposing a cage of craggy rib bones. Thankfully arugula obfuscates his mistakes like Dutch hiding from the Predator. Get to the chopper!