A New Dawn

It's tough to discover modesty when photographing an enormous coiled homemade potato sausage, but Tamalehawk figured the best way to commemorate Gene's Sausage Shop opening in Lincoln Square was to portray in its natural state. Avert your eyes if such an abundance either grosses you out or makes you too hungry to live.

Tamalehawk and family visited Gene's Saturday night and was met with a crowd packed scapular to scapular for the rapt scavenging of the two-story butcher, bakery, deli, and international grocery monolith. Needless to say, it was a paradise of sorts, the kind of place Tamalehawk could spend a hundred bucks in the flap of a wing. Also, the phone number is 773-SAUSAGE, which wins all your childhood trophies and knocks over the display case.

Jacket Required

One genre that Tamalehawk carried back with him from England was the potato-as-entree "jacket potato," wherein a giant potato is bedecked with a melange of toppings and promptly torn apart in a savage fashion. He didn't have the more traditional British beans or tuna on hand, so he opted for the distinctly American practice of taking a vegetable and suffocating it in cheese sauce.

In other news, he was wondering if it eating increasingly smaller dinners in order to justify eating a larger dessert is a self-destructive habit or a stroke of genius. He's not sure when that switch started happening, whether incremental, or triggered by Halloween, or in preparation for the holidays, but it has become a hardship that Tamalehawk will bravely endure.

Further Adventures

Tamalehawk has long subjected the imposing Strangeloaf to deranged experimentation, ransacking cabinets and pillaging his fridge for more balance, texture, and flavor to finesse into the perplexing mess before crossing his feathers and hoping for the best.

This time around, Tamalehawk managed to add leftover black beans, tomato sauce, carrots, spinach, onions, and bread along with the ground turkey, egg, and melange of condiments. He achieved the density and moisture he was seeking, and was pleased that all things considered, it was a pretty healthy endeavor. He felt perfectly justified in devouring dessert.

Beyond the Grave

Enthralled by cauldron's sprawling haul, Tamalehawk celebrated Halloween by observing the annual tradition called Remembering Whether Or Not You Like Almond Joys. The verdict fell in the "strangely intrigued" column for the ersatz coconut candy, who's grainy, gelatinous center produce a texture that is somehow appealing in its revulsion.

All in all, Tamalehawk was comforted to see the haunted handouts haven't changed much since he stalked the streets as a plucky youngster - Reese's, Smarties, and Milk Duds - though he was surprised to see one neighbor was going old-school and sticking kids with Pixie sticks. Tamalehawk kind of admired the audacity of that dude's hardcore candy agenda before immediately throwing it away.

Second Chance

Tamalehawk realized recently that not everyone loves muffins. He traces the muffin's malignment to several odious origins; stale towers of bran grenades at Days Inn continental breakfast bars, pallid Plexiglas prisons in gas station kiosks, and bland blueberry turds in a wicker basket at an 8 AM corporate quarterly meetings. It's really no wonder the muffin has become so divisive.

If you ever want to experience what a muffin can and should taste like, head to Angel Food Bakery, where the sour cherry variety or occasional ginger pear pairing will make your whole face remember the muffin's potent potential. These are so good that it is not without a flash of anger that you will place a piece in your tiny child's outstretched wing.

Malus Domestica

And so begins Tamalehawk's annual apple gauntlet, wherein he tries to draft a rational strategy for dispatching a vast sack of apples that he carried across a mud-slung orchard in Wisconsin. He immediately started scouring scrolls, folklore, and oracles in an attempt to unlock the secrets of the ubiquitous autumnal orb.

Later, back in his lab, he kicked things off with an inaugural crisp. He added everything in his pantry, shoved it in the oven, and summoned his hunger. His largest flaw was panicking that it was drying out and basting the whole thing with apple juice half-way through. The result was an apple stew with some promising ideas - namely the raisins, dried cranberries, and amaretto, walnut, and almond topping. The missteps didn't stop Tamalehawk from drinking the whole dish for lunch the next day.

Early Start

One benefit of Babyhawk's new habit of waking up yawning before the crack of dawn is the prospect of breakfast. Long his favorite meal, he normally forsakes it in exchange for a few more minutes asleep and dreaming about food. He has to say though, the smell of coffee and toasting almonds is an equitable alternative.

One quick look at his laughable larder, still reeling from its recent cleaning, revealed only oatmeal as an appealing premier meal. Though he's loathe to boil oatmeal in just water when it could be apple juice, coffee, or chocolate milk, swirling butter and brown sugar into a pot of anything will make Tamalehawk consider greeting the day with a modicum of positivity instead of the dubious half-scowl he typically fashions his beak into.