Jordan almond milk

there's lots of reasons to celebrate today

Hi, clowns!

I’ve missed you all. But as most of you know, Davida and I have been pretty busy, you know, getting married and stuff.

Photo credit: Ryan Moore Photography

Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with a ton of wedding photos—I’ve just got a few to share with you.

We participated in a Korean ceremony called a paebaek, which means we got to dress up in cool shiny outfits, wear interesting hats, and do fun things like catch chestnuts and jujubes (red dates) in a piece of cloth. That act signifies how many kids we’re going to have, and in our case, we’re apparently going to have a big family of three sons and three daughters.

Yikes. In this economy?!

Photo credit: Ryan Moore Photography

Of course, we had to sneak out during the day to go grab some Taco Bell, because you know how much Davida and I love that shit.

(For your reference: Taco Bell bibimbap, what happens when you put Taco Bell into a smoker, and also, the ol’ classic, communion wafer Nachos Bell Grande. Sponsor me, cowards, or else I will tell everyone to Live Menos!!!)

Then we threw a massive pizza party for our family and friends, a drunk guy named Jimmy tried to get in my car thinking I was his Uber driver, and our dumb cat Scorpion decided to eat a bunch of wedding gift ribbon out of the trash can, which resulted in some pretty interesting discoveries in the litter box later (he’s fine and clearly unstoppable).

And guess what else? The newsletter’s officially four years old!

Jesus. Four years of this mayhem! Many of you have been here since the olden days, but lots of you have also joined me since. And there’s a bunch of new eyeballs here since you heard me talk on The Sporkful podcast earlier this week, which was a fun recording to be on.

I spent quite a bit of time talking about the Thai Burger King cheeseburger situation, which you all got to read about here just the other week. But new readers be warned, I enjoy threatening to shove food up my ass frequently, and yes, I am somehow a gainfully employed food writer.

Now onto the usual fun!

Since Davida and I just got married, wedding celebrations are still on our mind.

One wedding tradition people have in other countries is to hand out Jordan almonds to their party guests. Jordan almonds are those pastel-colored candy-coated almonds that are so hard, it’s hard not to wonder if you’re crunching on your own broken teeth while you’re chewing on them.

Since I am deadly afraid of breaking my teeth on anything, I thought it would be a safer bet to turn them into something much easier on my molars: almond milk.

This would be interesting, because I’d never made nut milk from scratch before.

Good thing is, it’s not that complicated of a process. Basically, all you need to do is soak almonds in water overnight, bust them up, then squeeze the pulverized nuts to get the nut essence out of them. Ah yes, everyone’s favorite, drinkable nut essence.

I was convinced that soaking the candied nuts in their whole form meant that the nut flesh inside wouldn’t become fully hydrated, and therefore I’d be left with a disappointing load of nut juice.

So like a weird neighbor you only hear about on Reddit, I went into our apartment building’s backyard and smashed an entire pound of Jordan almonds with a hammer. I prayed that someone would come out and ask me what I was doing, but no such luck.

Also, I realize that foot photos are commonly something people sell on the internet, but I’m trying to convince you all to sign up for paid subscriptions, so your first taste of my dainty feet is free.

It was time to give my nuts a bath in cold water.

I covered the busted nuts with water, and let them soak in the fridge overnight, while I practiced calling Davida my wife. The entire time I’ve had this newsletter, she’s been my fiancée, and for some miraculous reason, decided to stick around for like, forever.

And finally, too. It’s way easier to type “wife” than Google “how to put the accent over the e” every time I refer to her in writing.

The next day I was met with a somewhat unappetizing chunky mess of soaked almond bits and dissolved candy shell.

It looked even worse as I was pouring it all into my blender.

I blitzed the Jordan almonds with my Vitamix until they were a fine puree, and watched the cats flee in sheer terror at the sound of the jet engine blender. They were clearly as excited about this candy nut milk as I was.

I poured the liquid nuts into a fine-meshed nut milk bag, which filled up like a plant-based udder, and then had Davida take what might now be the most disturbing photo we’ve snapped for the newsletter.

Oh, man.

The liquid came out in these weird globules, which reminded me of squeezing my skin when I was a teenager. Davida shouted the entire time she took these photos, then ran off and I never saw her ever again.

Thankfully, pouring the Jordan almond milk into a new glass made it look a lot more palatable, even though the lighting on this Red Lobster glass makes it look like it says “crap” on it.

I took a sip and, uh, at least the texture was nice and silky? Because in the next minute, I went straight into sugar shock. It occurred to me shortly after I’d taxed my pancreas that this was an entire pound’s worth of of candy-coated Jordan almond essence in a pint glass.

“You know those International Delight coffee creamer things?” Davida asked me, upon taking a sip. “It tastes like drinking that straight from the bottle.”

What she meant is that she absolutely hated it. But she optimistically suggested that it might taste better in our morning coffee the next day.

I mean…on paper it sounded nice.

But damn, was it gross. I’ve never had mealy coffee before, but that’s exactly what it was, mealy. There was something about the Jordan almond milk that left a thin starchy coating on the inside of my mouth, while simultaneously making the coffee more bitter—and that’s coming from someone who prefers to drink his coffee black.

Maybe the Jordan almond milk was saying something. It could be letting us know that our post-wedded lives together will be extra sweet. Yeah, that’s probably it.

Until those six foretold children show up, that is.

---

I’m actually surprised I didn’t talk about shoving Jordan almonds up my ass anywhere in this edition of the newsletter. Married life has clearly changed me already. Wish you could have all been at the pizza party with us, clowns.

And here’s the usual—don’t forget to share the newsletter with all of your friends, enemies, and the people you’ve been forced to return to the office with, who now need to read something angrily on their commute while cursing out their corporate overlords.

Yup, here’s that last important bit: Don’t forget to upgrade your subscription to a paid one.

Four years and hundreds of pieces later (some of them viral), I, Dannis Ree, am still here to provide you with nihilistic cooking content. Signing up for a paid subscription will net you full access to the archives and exclusive editions of the newsletter, so I promise you get something out of it.

In the meantime, hope you’re all enjoying the best bits of summer. As always, I love you all, and I’ll hop into your inboxes again soon.

OH, AND TACO BELL, I’M STILL WAITING TO HEAR BACK FROM YOU.