With a little effort I've managed to dial in my salsa recipe. It's fucking good. Really, really good. The best salsa you've ever tasted. I've started making it in a big batch every few weeks, pouring it into mason jars, and actually enjoying good Mexican food on the regular.
I love pickled stuff, it's easy to do well. And I always end up with far more than I can use, which means jars of homemade deliciousness I can hand off to friends and neighbors. Score a few points, the adult equivalent of a hand drawn birthday card.
Ceviche a go-to in my house whenever I have leftover fish that's three or four days old. Still good, especially when compared to whatever garbage they sell at the store, but not as still-twitching- fresh as I've come to expect.
Bodysurfing is the greatest thing ever. It’s fun, it’s easy, and because its biggest devotees are hairy middle aged men, it’s inherently uncool. So uncool, in fact, that it transcends it’s own uncoolosity, and circles back around to become extra cool. It also has a tendency t
Rule number one with a speargun is “never point it at anything you don't want to kill.” Rule number two is “never fire it out of water.” But, jeez, if you're gonna, at least unhook the fucking shooting line.
Episode eight brings us Cameron Kirkconnell. Master mariner, professional spearfisherman, guide, freediver, father, husband, hunter, waterman. So many awesome words you can use to describe the guy. Cameron and I touched on a million subjects.
How can you not love the Ho family? A surf stoked family of rippers. Friendly times, good vibes. Short, for sure. Very short, but how much better is that for surfing? Not many six-foot-plus dudes out ripping.
The appeal of diving deep on a single breath of air is difficult for the typical landlubber to comprehend, and it's no wonder that many look on committed freedivers as suicidal adrenaline crazed lunatics. You can't breathe water, and to an outside observer it would seem as though every dive could b