Vaguely Cuban Bowls
Crystal’s Cactus
Patrick was getting fat, and his pants were bursting with broken feelings. What had he written? Dear Wifey, I must immediately retract every promise I have ever made to you, as well as any and all unverifiable statements of fact or feeling. He bought Crystal a cactus, boxed, wrapped in newspaper, and secured it with masking tape because he didn’t have the clear stuff. He didn’t like Wifey anymore, and he didn’t believe he ever had. The parts of him that had liked her were dead parts that belonged to someone else. They couldn’t be his parts because he was intact, whole, and in love with Crystal. His gut was a real problem. Hanging onto feelings he couldn’t possibly digest. He was impervious to the laxative effects of couples counseling, and to laxatives. There were other problems too, symptoms of middle life he addressed unevenly. A shiny oil resided along the line where his hair should be… where his hair will be, he thought hopefully, once the medicated oil finishes its business. Crystal wasn’t like a cactus. Wifey was the cactus. A prickly, dehydrated thing that thrived in uninhabitable emotional climates. Neither his mother, Mary, nor his other mother, Mary, taught him how to gift wrap. Crystal still found his incompetence endearing. He was not middle aged, but he was getting there. Wifey was just a nickname for his girlfriend who he had been seeing seriously for eleven months. No legality was involved, yet it seemed important to leverage the inaccuracy in his text as a way of emphasizing finality and disdain. Wifey sounded too stupid for the intent, and so did her name, Jessica. But he was biased now. What happened to those first two blessed weeks? Had he really wasted ten and a half months of his life screwing a woman he didn't love? He didn't know how many boners he had left in him and he hated to think how they'd been wasted on Jessica's vagina, mouth, and butthole. On his way to the bowling alley he stopped at the vape store to replenish his vape juice stores. Crystal bowled like an idiot. Her arm swung out from her side rather than back and across her body so that the ball barely grazed the lane before it was in the gutter. Patrick feigned a goodhearted laugh through his grimace, said something about children nearby and fragile ankle bones. So, he would have to teach another woman how to bowl. He had been bowling since infancy, practically; second Mary was a champion. Crystal sat in the orange chair and peeled the masking tape and newspaper away. For some reason she touched the cactus. Grasped it, really, as if it were something soft she could bring to her mouth. She shrieked and threw it down the lane where it rolled, also, into the gutter. You fucking idiot, you stupid cow, some part of Patrick that wasn’t part of Patrick said.
Vaguely Cuban Bowls
Ingredients
For the slow cooker chicken:
2 lbs skinless chicken thighs
4 oz chipotle peppers in adobo sauce
½ cup barbeque sauce
1 tbs cumin
1 tbs smoked paprika
1 tbs onion powder
2 tsp garlic powder
For the bowls:
Chipotle BBQ chicken from recipe above
1 large sweet potato
2 tsp olive oil
1 tbs smoked paprika
1 ripe plantain
⅓ cup vegetable or canola oil
1 onion
3 cups black beans
½ cup barbeque sauce
1/2 cup fresh salsa
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
2-3 cups rice or several tortillas
1. Combine chicken thighs, chipotle peppers, barbeque sauce, cumin, paprika, onion powder, and garlic. Place in slow cooker on low for 4-5 hours, until meat begins to shred easily.
2. Chop sweet potato and toss with olive oil and smoked paprika. Bake at 300 degrees for 20-25 minutes until tender.
3. While sweet potatoes are baking, heat vegetable oil in a pan over medium heat. Fry sliced plantains until browned. Drain on paper towel lined plate.
4. Saute onion in oil until tender, about ten minutes. Add in black beans, sweet potatoes, chicken, and plaintains. Stir in barbeque sauce and warm through.
5. Serve mixture over rice or in a tortilla for a burrito. Top with cilantro and fresh salsa.
