Ben’s heart was pounding in his chest. He watched Volkov talking with the others in the low growling Russian he was becoming familiar with, yet still didn’t understand. He’d just had breakfast and was still on his knees, trembling. He was so damn scared, and in so much pain. He could still feel the sting from the needles he’d had to endure two days in a row. His fingernails still throbbed.
His teeth chattered while they made him wait, and his muscles spasmed with cold fear. Volkov had tortured him every day, and Ben had passed out from pain each time. The sadistic man timed how long he lasted. Ben was horrified to realize that Volkov was learning his limits so that he could drag out the pain longer.
The second day with the needles had been far worse because he’d taken it slower, letting Ben have time to breathe and adjust to the new levels of agony. The session time had nearly doubled, with Ben forced to lay there and listen while Volkov talked Dmitri through how to torture the boy ‘properly.’
The low conversation broke up, and the group of abusers returned to stand around Ben. He kept his eyes on the ground, hoping to hide even a fraction of his terror. Dmitri stood behind him and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look up at Volkov.
The big Russian had a playful gleam in his eye, and Ben knew enough to hate it now.
“My boys and I were just discussing your options for today. Dmitri wants to see how you handle an electric baton, but I don’t know if you’re ready for that. He did point out that you respond well to your collar.”
Ben’s mouth went dry. “A-a-and my o-other option-options?”
I think what’s wrong with me is that my dad loved making boiled peanuts but when you say “boiled peanuts” in a thick Mississippi Delta accent it sounds like “bald penis” and we were forbidden from acknowledging that
My dad, internally: “The children must be fed nutriment. I have in my possession a very large pot and a propane burner; I shall make a sojourn to the grocer’s and procure peanuts.”
My dad, aloud: “‘Ey, y'all wansum bald penis?”
All of us, internally: “Ah yes, such a delectable summertime treat that will be.”
All of us, aloud: “'Ey, shitchea. Daddy boutta bal up some bald penis!”
They take on a delightful texture similar to water chestnuts and get infused with whatever seasonings you put in the water. It is literally so fucking delicious and if you don’t know about bald penis then you are Deprived. The food of the gods.
Honey, darling, listen to me. Would I lie to you? No, I wouldn’t. If you ever find yourself driving around in the rural southern US, you simply must keep an eye out for one of these gentlemen:
For a very reasonable price you’ll be provided a cup of absolutely delectable provincial delicacies that will surely equal any hors d'ouvers you might find on the continent. I promise, darling, it is the most délicieuse dining experience you’re likely to find, and it will surely–as my dear departed grandmama used to say–“make yer tongue slap yer brains out”
And Japan! Spicy mushrooms, razor clams, a sesame sesame dipping sauce, pickled vegetables and sticky rice with freeze dried mandarin orange peel and uni. A fascinating combination of food, especially the pickled veggies. The mushrooms had the most amazing texture and this was my first time having razor clams, what a great texture.
The Thai course! This was absurdly good. Just so much so I’ll do my best… there was poached crab with fingerlimes on top and then nam prik with a curry based custard that was delicious and just a little spicy and then a butter poached squid in more curry with coconut ash for texture and fermented celery root and then, and THEN, green papaya salad! Like from What Zabb Man! And a little sponge cake on a palm frond to look like a coconut sprout but with lemongrass glaze. Omfg this was so good and it was just so fun.
Muffuletta Sandwich REVIEW: This was the best sandwich (non-burger) we had in New Orleans. I still have the video of my friend taking her first bite, and the look of sheer joy and pleasure which crossed her face. Nothing can be wrong in the world when you’re eating this sandwich. Let me break it down. Cochon scratch makes all of it’s cold cuts and sausages in house, makes its own olive salad, and bakes its own bread fresh every day. It really comes down to not only the symphony of the flavors that should work together simply because of the ingredients complementing each other, but the quality of the ingredients themselves. The bread was crispy and moist, with the flavor of the sesame seeds adding nicely to the flavor profile of the sandwich. The mortadella, salami, ham and cheese added varying shades of saltiness and soft textural differences. The olive salad was also fresh and delicious, with just the right amount of marinade and seasoning. You guys, this sandwich is, as Guy Fieri would say, ‘the bomb dot com’. It is so good that we tried this before going on a food tour later that day, because on the food tour we tried some shitty hipster version of a muffuletta with focaccia instead of traditional muffuletta bread (created exclusively for this sandwich!), with ridiculously stingy amounts of filling and with a sad SAD excuse for an olive salad. I made a point of telling everyone on the tour not to let that be their first impression of the sandwich, and to go to Cochon to get a taste of the real deal. It is a perfect bite of warm, melty cold cut sandwich. The heat from the griddle elevated the cold cuts and melted the cheese which added a very pleasant creaminess to the sandwich. It was lovely and juicy, as can be appreciated in the second picture. I could go on forever, but the only way to truly appreciate this masterpiece in its full glory is to head down to Cochon in New Orleans and try it for yourself. Fair warning, it is a pretty generous portion, so go hungry, and you will leave not only with a full stomach, but with a happy heart and a smile on your face.
Epilogue Quote from my friend: “That fucking shit rocks”. Staff were friendly and order came in a timely manner straight to the table after ordering at the deli counter.
