In Hawaiian slang, "broke da mout" means something so tasty, you cried.
I ate a couple of things today that broke da mout. For one, a raw puree of tomato soup (salted, and then run through the food mill, then chilled with minced celery, shallots and cucumber... oh, gosh, it all came from the yard).
It was so good, we saved a little and strained out the chunks to make a Local Bloody Mary. Except I haven't perfected local vodka yet... (Stay tuned!)
We had, obviously, kitchen waste-age (cucumber scrapings, tomato skins, like that). And I put them into the garbage disposal. Which hummed, but didn't whirl.
Cranky thinks it's his fault for grinding up lime and lemon rinds a few days ago. He's surely wrong: a garbage disposal is supposed to be able to grind up rinds.
Well, clever me. I resorted to the "broomstick trick," where you attempt to loosen the gears with a stiff wooden implement.
And I broke da mount.
Plumber coming tomorrow.