Tag: cooking

April 19th, 2025

Journal Writing

April 19th, 2025

The BerkShire: Where There’s Always a Second Breakfast

Recently, I decided to invest in stock. Not the market kind—I mean stock pots. Clearly, I’m less Wall Street and more Eat Street. I’m definitely not Warren Buffett. Wanting buffet? Absolutely. Which is why I’ve started building a diversified portfolio of cookware.

You might say I’ve opened my own hedge fund—rooted firmly in The BerkShire, where there’s always a second breakfast… and sometimes a second lunch before first dessert. I like Hobbits—they appreciate buffets the way I do.

Before I became a Samwise investor, I only had saucepans. Let’s just say… it wasn’t panning out. They couldn’t handle my high-volume cooking—or my low tolerance for scraping burnt rice. But now, thanks to my trusty stock pot, I can cook big, bold batches of anything with ease. It’s like compound interest—for stew.

Since expanding my collection, I can honestly say my kitchen game has leveled up. Before, I didn’t have much potluck. My grilled cheese sandwiches were getting so scorched, my stockbroker started making margin calls. I told him, “Wrong call—I only stock butter, not margarine.”

I keep butter on hand for one reason only: in case the Ring of Power gets stuck on my finger. That way, I can slip it off—after slipping into the realm of the unseen. Which, honestly, is exactly what I had to do after accidentally serving him a Mount Doom Melt instead of grilled cheese. It started whispering his name… and told him to buy shares that immediately plunged.

There have been times I’ve had so many dishes on the stove; I worried the whole thing might crash. I didn’t want to trigger a culinary recession just because I lacked the pans for a four-course Hobbit-style breakfast. We’re talking vegetable mini quiche, Hobbit Hash with extra thyme (because time is a flat shire-cle), wild mushrooms on cheese toast, and poached pears with lingonberry syrup—because no self-respecting Hobbit skips dessert. It’s all there in Bilbo’s pie chart of pies.

Or, if you don’t trust pastry-based data visualization, ask Warren Buffett. He’s basically the Gandalf the Grey of finance—a wizard with portfolios and an uncanny ability to show up just before everything crashes. You shall not pass… on this trade.

At this point, I’d rather diversify my pantry than my portfolio. And honestly, that might be the smarter bet—because if the market does crash, stock pots might finally be recognized as precious metals. My precious…

Not that my broker would agree—he’s still mad about the sandwich.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to disappear into the realm of the unseen—I just heard my Lord of the Ringtone. Either my stockbroker’s margin calling… or it’s my girlfriend, wondering why the grocery list is written in Elven and what on Middle-earth is Fruit of the Mallorn Tree.

March 13th, 2025

Journal Writing

March 13th, 2025

The Spice is Right

Since I’m such a seasoned chef, I like to have a lot of seasonings on hand. I know what you’re probably thinking: “Bork! Bork! Bork!” I said seasoned chef, not Swedish Chef. But with the sheer number of spices and herbs in my kitchen, I might as well host my own cooking show. Welcome to The Spice is Right! And you can call me… Bob Borker.

With all these herbs, my kitchen isn’t just a place for cooking—it’s basically a holistic healing center. Need a cure for the common cold? I’ve got ginger, turmeric, and honey. Feeling sluggish? Try some cayenne for a natural detox (or at least a reason to chug milk). I’d say I’m just one essential oil away from becoming a wellness guru, but let’s be honest—I’d probably spill it everywhere.

That said, even an herbal healer needs a little organization. It’s time for a proper spice rack. The only problem? I have no idea how to build one. I’m not a carpenter. If I were, I’d spend less time cooking and more time singing “Close to You” in an angelic contralto. Besides, my last attempt at assembling furniture resulted in an entertainment center that looks more like an entertainment epicenter—as in, the exact point where an earthquake just hit.

But I don’t need to add carpentry to my already impressive résumé. Some of you might be wondering, with such a lucrative career as a humorist, why I even need to moonlight as a chef. The answer? I have a lot of mouths to feed… mostly the ducks at the park. I’m hoping one of them turns out to be Scrooge McDuck and buys me a spice rack as a thank-you.

As a cook, people often ask me why my food tastes so good. “What’s your secret?” they wonder. I usually respond, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Or, if I want to keep them on their toes, “Never mind, I’ll just wait for the poison to kick in.” That’s when they start dialing Poison Control, and I have to clarify—“Relax, the secret is cumin.” They never see that cumin.

But since people may now be a little hesitant to eat my cooking, and these anecdotes won’t make me enough money for a spice rack anytime soon, I guess I’ll just turn it into a game. Next time I’m cooking, I’ll tell my girlfriend, “I Spice with My Little Eye something brownish yellow,” and let her find the cumin.