Lose 15 Lbs. Without Doing a Thing!

I feel like nobody will read this unless I lead with a picture.

Dear Oodblo readers, 

Elephant in the room: It's been awhile. I missed you terribly, you lovely bastards and lady bastards.

The culprit here was/is a colony of bacteria that have been having an orgy in my guts for a couple of weeks. It's bacterial Studio 54 down there; bacteria wearing sunglasses indoors and doing blow off of the asses of bacteria strippers doing blow off the asses of more bacteria strippers. Bacteria Mick Jagger is there, hanging out with (anybody famous in the late 70's). And the goddamn disco music...

Suffice it to say, thinking about food constantly hasn't been at the top of my list so much of late as, say, visualizing myself not throwing up all day and then acting that out in real life. Or visualizing that there's a reliable toilet nearby....

I know what you're thinking. Do you have to talk about gross stuff like that on a food blog? It's not very appetizing. I'm not making you read this blog, asshole. Although, if you were real and I knew where your house was, I'd come over to your house and I would, in fact, make you read this blog. Moot point, jerk.

The upside of all this: unintentional weight loss. And that's the real recipe here. Looking to lose that extra 15 pounds? Get your hands and then your mouth on some bacteria. Make sure you get it in your stomach.* (laugh track) I kid, I kid. 

Seriously though, it's amazing.  I just walk around naked all the time now. It's not all that different than before, except for the fact that my dog seems impressed now. My dog doesn't speak English**, but I read between the lines. When someone (or some mammal) watches your every move then occasionally licks their privates, you know you're doing something right. 

Well, that pretty much wraps it up... Oh wait. You want an actual recipe of food, eh? Fine. Just this once.*** 

This is another warmed-over SideDish recipe. Not that I'm dogging anything but the writing in the last SideDish recipe I rehashed here -- it was fantastic. This one is OK. It's just that there's some bad blood between me and this dish, because despite my stomach's protests, I had to choke it down several times on account of, how's that old saying go? Oh yeah, if you don't eat food, you'll fucking die. 

So... make this, don't make it. I absolutely do not give a shit. Never talk to me about it, please. It disgusts me.**** Hopefully, by the next time we have one of these little chats, it'll be the early 80's in my digestive tract and the pathogen FBI will have swooped in and shut down Studio 54 for good. Disco sucks motherfuckers. Enjoy.

Grilled Pork Chops with Peach Salsa
(serves three)

Ingredients:

Pork chops:
3 roughly 1" thick pork chops
1/3 cup olive oil
tbsp soy sauce
1 1/2 tsp cumin
tsp chipotle powder (or chili powder)

Peach Salsa:
2 peaches, diced
1 jalapeno, finely diced
1/2 a small red onion, finely diced
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
juice of 1 or 2 limes
splash of olive oil
salt to taste

Instructions:

1. Make the pork chop marinade. Mix the olive oil, soy sauce, cumin and chipotle powder together. Pour mixture over the chops and marinate in the fridge for several hours to overnight, flipping occasionally, if you can. You want the chops nicely coated.
2. In a bowl, mix all the ingredients for the peach salsa together, except 1/2 cup of the diced peaches, the lime juice and olive oil.
3. In a food processor or blender, puree the reserved peaches with the lime juice and olive oil until smooth, then mix with the other ingredients in the bowl. The salsa can be made the night before.
4. Preheat grill to medium-high and grill chops, flipping once, until the internal temperature has come up to 145, probably about 10-12 minutes total; grills vary.
5. Let the chops rest a few minutes (it's been a long day for them), then top with peach salsa and enjoy.

You can see my reflection in the fork. Nice photography, douche.

*really don't. Not because it's gross and horrible, which it is, but because you'd be copying me. Nobody likes a copy cat.

** immigrated from Finland.

***And forever.

**** You can talk to me about it if you want, but in an ironic twist, if you do, I'll pretend I don't speak English. Just like my dog does. Only, unlike with my dog, no one will be licking their balls in approval.