Dangerous Compassions


“Uuugh!  Uuuuugh!  Jeeze, who needs weightlifting when you have cabbage?” I asked Ming.  I was in the kitchen, asking a free cabbage to submit to my will, to be sliced by my biggest knife, into the colander.

“There’s a lot of cabbage in a cabbage,” I told Ming.  “That’s my wisdom for you today.”

He was still waking up, eating some matcha noodles I’d made for him for breakfast, with sesame oil, shoyu, Ethiopian spices, and green onion.

“Wow, it’s like a book.  I’m flipping through the pages of cabbage,” I said.  The leaves were so stacked.  “I wonder how it ends.  Probably in some poop.”

Ming said something funny that I can’t recall.  He was starting to wake up.

“Did you ever make a larger quantity of cabbage than you intended?” I asked, as I slid a ton of cabbage from my colander into the hot wok.  It did cook down to a smaller quantity.

more chicken ideas

“I invented a new dish–it’s called cabbage chicken,” I said.  “It’s where you make cabbage, and you make chicken.  And you combine them together and give them to the guys in the back house.”  I think enough garlic would make this a delicious dish.

Another idea I had was: brown some shredded chicken with onions and pour in some salsa and enchilada sauce.  Serve that over rice.


I often mention how most people don’t want the whole enchilada of love.  They want the thrilling, sexy, and easy parts.  They want to enjoy support and security without giving the same in return–they want to enjoy affectionate attention, but not have a difficult conversation.

I liken it to enjoying the meat and cheese but not the tortilla.  So this idea I have is like enchiladas, with way less work for me.  Give the people what they want.  If meat and sauce is their favorite part, why not.

I’m flipping back and forth between the literal and the metaphor, which I enjoy.  Do you have any good ideas for how to serve chicken to hungry omnivores who have trouble cooking for themselves?  Please suggest.

I won’t buy or handle other meat.  I won’t buy celery and support the celery industry.  Hahahaha!  Otherwise, I think anything’s possible.  Kitchen anarchy.


I’d made myself breakfast hours before–oatmeal topped with hemp seeds, milk, and two cut up nectarines.  It was freakin’ delicious.


By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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