crackpot stew

Somewhere, along the gnarled trail, there must have been a proposal to replicate a lentil curry, perused at pinch of yum. Lentils and curry, crockpot cooked: Reflectively fetching and perfunctory feast for any of many formidably complicated evenings.

These things are curious, these ideas that roll about the manifest – some of them do; some of them don’t – manifest. There are those that run into a wall of psychic resistance, many times overcome – indelible, if delayed – while a few just drip into the dross, unable to soar out, away from the froth, forever forgotten, at least, other that the prince of the lot, the long lingering lion, lovelorn leek soufflé. Someday, leek soufflé, someday, your disquiet spirit will find some solace, and you will rest away your angry gnashings.

Some comfort would be found, knowing some things are serendipitously survived, absently chosen – someday, we will wake and over coffee, reminisce with amusement on the long lingering lists with leek soufflé. Someday, we will ponder with curiosity, the reason it never came to be – effort? Too egg? There could come a night where it happens, just for kicks. It sounds mighty good at the moment. Maybe it will bear out of a passing conversation, as, likely did, this sumptuous stew, perhaps:

Oi. Dinner. What should it be.
Well, there was this stew.
It was curry and lentil.
Sounds good – and, crockpot.
That would be useful on a too busy night, too.

Probably, it’s likely, that was never formally registered to climb aboard – rationalized, that presumption, when the premier convolution was jettisoned, irreparably compromised by wont of puree. Maybe an oversight, simply slipped sentience, or forgotten a-rest a rack, remiss-ly missed, beguiled by a bathroom break – not the first; won’t be the last. So – remedied – and still: Red lentils? None. Red curry paste? Slightly more than none. Explicitly, the paltry pieces present, were so, simply coincidentally, bulk-ly bought.

So it goes… Waded in too far, for fear of squander wrought rue, it let sail. So much substitution, Pinch would certainly be aghast – yea, offended – likely appalled by considerate consideration despite a common ancestry, the genomic divergence absolutely apparent, the chimp to her human. Not one red lentil in the chimp, either. A few greenies, some black eyed peas, just a bit of brown rice and a bunch of mushrooms. And yellow curry powder.

Despite all appearances, it was wonderful.

Alas, fair prince, we shall sail free, set loose from the bonds that held us in tortured frame.

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The Crew are omnivorous land mammals