The Humor of Food
The Food Network launched a show this past Sunday, Worst Cooks in America. If you need a good belly laugh, be sure to catch the rebroadcast. The only thing I’ll tell you about the show is that I learned what not to do with turnips. As I giggled about it, I thought about food from my youth that in retrospect make me ROTFLMAO: red velvet cake with the taste and texture of cornbread, pear halves with a dollop of Miracle Whip and a walnut half served on wilted iceberg lettuce, and lime Jello mold with horseradish. My eyes are tearing as I write about the latter food fiasco. Growing up in the 1970’s, Jello was frequently a dinner guest. Most days it was cool. I could go for cherry Jello either plain or with fruit cocktail. But that lime Jello mold was truly a duck and cover event.
I don’t know where my mom got that recipe nor do I know where she has put it. In an earlier blog, I encouraged all foodies to gather recipes to create wonderful food legacies. I’m going to encourage collecting recipes again: this time for banishment to the netherworld. As soon as I find that recipe, it will be cast out. Some things are just so wrong on so many levels that there is no redemption.
Had the recipe stopped at lime Jello, grated cucumbers, and sour cream, would have been tolerable. Even though the addition of mayonnaise and grated onion were pushing the envelope, horseradish was the death knell for that concoction. To make matters worse, this was no small, one package Jello mold. This thing was huge! I remember my mom needing to use two molds because it was too big to fit into one. So there it was: an awful dinner guest whose unwelcome presence showed up night after night. On the first night, it arrived at the table firm and appropriately jiggly eagerly awaiting our spoons. However, its joy at the anticipation of our dining pleasure was crushed by immediate rejection. Hurt by our rebuff, on the second night, the mold began to slowly, steadily weep. By the third day, it was a completely sobbing, broken mess. Yet, it still managed to compose itself enough to come to dinner. Eventually the last mini plock would bid farewell and make its way graciously into the trash bag.
Well that’s my story, one I’m sure we’ve all experienced. I’d love to hear your stories so drop me a line.
Sugar Train running over Thiago!
I’m tellin’ !!!!!!!
Recipe Disaster! Three months ago, I invited my friend Matt over for dinner. I wanted to make a healthy version of my famous pasta primavera using organic vegetables (broccoli, red peppers, zucchini, and mushrooms) and gluten- free brown rice pasta. Well, I sautéed the veggies in olive oil, garlic, and fresh organic basil, rosemary and oregano. The smell was intoxicating and Matt and I were itching to start our meal. When the water for the pasta had come to a boil, I added the angel hair brown rice pasta. I let it cook for the required time, drained it, and added the delicious veggies. As I mixed the ingredients, I began to notice that the pasta was starting to clump and disintegrate. The whole thing turned into sometime my cat coughed up. I was so upset. The more I stirred the worse it got. Matt tried to taste it and all he could say was, “Well, if you don’t look at it, it does taste good. Maybe we could eat it in the dark?” Needless to say, we had a good laugh and ended up ordering pizza and enjoying our pinot noir!
Moral of the story: Stay away from “healthy” gluten-free brown rice pasta!