poorman's feast!

Everyone knows the economy blows right now. And those of us who are unemployed, even if for ludicrous reasons, might know it best. For instance, I've recently had to cut back on unnecessary expenses like popping bottles of Dom Pérignon, having heat and, of course, wearing pants. But don't think I'm not living large. While I may have had to downgrade from vente to grande, I'm still pretty comfortable. In place of the Dom, I guzzle moonshine that I now make in my bathtub; instead of heat, I warm myself by getting blitzed off of said moonshine; and, really, who needs pants when you're drunk and sweaty?

In essence, being poor isn't so bad. The only real concession I've had to make so far is with my diet. It's amazing how assimilated my body has become to consuming copious amounts of beans each week. In fact, I'm so used to the beans by now, that even if I ever do find a way to make money again, I don't think I'll ever kick my bean habit. Or my moonshine habit. Or my no-pants habit.

The point is, this recession cooking I've recently gotten into is goddamn delicious. So delicious, in fact, that I'm thinking of starting up a Web log to share my bean-centric recipes with the world. My favorite so far is a little something I like to call a Bean Omelet. All you need is a can of beans, an onion, half a pepper, two eggs and a couple of spoonfuls of salsa for garnish. I cook up the beans, onion and pepper first, adding whatever spices I'm able to busk for that day. For the next step, I start making what resembles an omelet by beating two eggs and frying them in a small pan. When those are just about cooked, I add my delicious bean mixture and cover. In a minute or two, when the parfume of slightly charred eggs'n'beans begins to permeate the air, I turn off the heat, add the salsa and stand in my kitchen while eating it directly out of the pan. It really is a tasty, protein'n'fiber-y treat, meaning that just because your wallet is empty, doesn't mean your stomach has to be empty or that your digestive track need be irregular. (Too much?)

You know, the more I think about all of my delicious bean recipes, the more I'm beginning to think this economic downturn has done wonders for me and my bowels. (Too much again?) Not only is it forcing me to get my word hustle on and follow my dreams or whatever, but I've managed to learn to cook delicious, healthy and cheap meals of food. And I'm super-duper regular, or, more apropos, as they say in Russian -- and I'm not making this up -- super-pooper.

But I'm not the first one to discover the joys of depression cooking. Oh no, one Miss Clara, a 93-year-old grandmother from Upstate New York seems to be spreading the scrumptious joys of being poor better than anyone. Check this lass out:



HOLY CRAP! The Great Depression looked awesome! I'm just eating beans in this here modern-day recession, while Clara's whipping up a three-course Poorman's Feast! Not to mention Depression-era entertainment consisted of sitting around a stove and listening to an older family member read romance novels. (Awkward!) That certainly beats watching Dr. Phil alone on a fuzzy, 13-inch cathode ray, hand-me-down TV.

But for real, Clara's sh*t is tight (or should I say her sh*t hits on all the sixes?). Her videos are all worth watching, not just for the recipes, all of which I vow to adapt to incorporate beans in my set of Depression Cooking videos when I turn 93, but for the old-timey stories, like this one in Clara's very first video over two years ago. It's about bootleggers!



That's rich! Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta scram. I must jiffy off to the apothecary, where I hope not to get horswaggled by any fops. Yep, I'm sweeter on old-timeyness than I am sweet on beans. Preposterous, I know, but true! Ta-ta!