BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Does anyone happen to have Bill Cosby’s phone number? I wouldn’t normally ask something like this, but it’s kind of important… Really… No kidding.

You see, we need an intervention and we need it right away.

The problem came to light a few months back. At first, I thought it was just an odd anomaly. Something that was coming about due to some strange juxtaposition of the planets, or maybe some urban myth blown way out of proportion. Unfortunately, I think that may have just been wishful thinking on my part, because it seems the problem has only become worse… Well, in my mind as well as E Kay’s too. And, you all know that if E K thinks it’s a problem then it must be a problem.

You see, ignoring the original incident (which we will get to in a minute AND as I was still considering it an aberration at the time) the other night after dinner I happened to have a taste for something dessert oriented. Now, this is not the usual for me. Even being a fat guy, I’m not really a sweets oriented type. So, I usually figure that if my brain suddenly tells me it wants something dessertish, then my body must be deficient in some wholesome nutrient found primarily in dessert. I dunno, maybe something like copious amounts of sugar, or gallons of high fructose corn syrup. At any rate, whatever it is I am missing can apparently be found in dessert, and therefore I do something about it.

Of course, since sweets really aren’t my thing I try to stick to something that isn’t cloyingly sugary, and that is something I enjoy – especially if it brings back fond childhood memories. This is why I try to keep a box or two of pudding in the cabinet. It’s not too sweet, it’s easy to fix – especially if it is instant pudding, and like Mister Cosby says, “Mmmmmmm Ummmmm Mmmmm, Jello Pudding!”

I mean, come on. Pudding is one of those foods that simply fills the bill no matter what (pun NOT intended). Why as a matter of fact, I remember one time back in my early 20’s when pudding pretty much saved my life.

I was single – hadn’t even met E K yet, in fact – and all by my lonesome. I had come home from work early because I was feeling like crap. As it turned out I had contracted some manner of killer, face eating, brain frying flu that makes H1N1 look like an overcooked pork chop… I mean, this stuff was “The Stand” kind of bad. Before long I found myself in the ravages of an extremely high fever that involved some delirium, chills, and sweats.  Just to let me know I was no longer in control, it roller-coastered up and down for better than 24 hours. When it finally broke, I found myself tangled up in the soggy sheets of my bed, where I had been the whole time – several hours of which I didn’t really remember. Fortunately, I had come home early on a Friday, so in my fevered state I had not missed work without calling in, however, I had in fact missed a good friend’s wedding. Fortunately, I wasn’t in the wedding party, but I hated to miss the event all the same – even if I would have been going stag. After all, bridesmaids and all that you know…

But, back to this already tangential tale… I was hungry and weak, but I dragged myself into the bathroom and grabbed a shower before heading to the kitchen.  I hadn’t been shopping so the fridge was on the emptyish side, and the cupboard wasn’t much better. So, I climbed into my beat up Ford Pinto and zipped up the street to the 7-11. But, instead of grabbing a microwave burrito and a Slurpee, as I came through the door I spied that which would make all things better again.

And so, in a matter of 10 minutes after returning home with my prize I had a big ass bowl of Jello Instant Pistaschio Pudding in front of me. And you know what? I ate the whole thing while watching some movie I’d already seen a dozen times before on one of the 38 cable stations we had back in the day. I don’t remember what it was I was watching, but I definitely remember the pudding… It was instant comfort food, and it made me feel better after the ordeal of the fever.

So, back to what I was saying originally… The other night I had a taste for something sweet, therefore I hauled myself off to the kitchen and whomped up a batch of chocolate pudding. Not my favorite flavor, but I figured if I was fixing pudding for myself I should do so for E K and the offspring too.

Several minutes after the whipping and the chilling, I arranged the three bowls on a tray then brought them into the dining room where the two of them were doing horrible things to my notebook computer with a mouse and an internet connection – the adware installed on that thing now is another story in and of itself…

Anyway, intent on surprising them I snuck in and placed bowls of the “puddingy” goodness in front of them.

E K yelped in delight, “Pudding!”

Of course, that was much the same as hearing, “Good Dog!” so I couldn’t help but wag my tail and hope that meant I would NOT be treated to my usual severe beating later in the evening when there were no witnesses.

However, the O-spring just stared at her bowl, then after a moment pushed it away and continued installing malware on my notebook computer.

“What’s wrong?” E K asked.

The O-spring shrugged and said, “I really don’t like pudding.”

You could hear a spoon drop. As a matter of fact, had you been in the room you actually would have heard two spoons clattering on the floor.

A child who doesn’t like pudding… Just unbelievable…

So, now do you see why I’m trying to get hold of Bill? If this doesn’t call for a Jello Pudding Intervention, I don’t know what does…

More to come…

Murv

Mandy looked over at me and said, “Merrrba… gimmin suey sass.”

I nodded and replied, “Shooba. Yooben neeb hat pemmer doo?”

Everyone else around the table just stared. Well, almost everyone. Some of them were slumped over in their chairs, or pitched forward with their faces in their plates. The Evil Redhead was among them. In fact, she had been the first to go after staring off into space for several minutes.

I readjusted my chopsticks – all eleven of them, or so it appeared to me – in my hand, then chased a hunk of steak around my plate, batting it from one side, then over to the other and back again. Finally I just gave up, stabbed it with one of the plastic sticks, then spent another three minutes trying to hit my mouth.

“Nom thiggen…” I muttered, waving the now empty, imitation ivory stick at the watery sauce on my plate.

“Ahm nobissed…” Mandy said with a nod

I stared at the sauce for a minute then asked, “Wunner by?”

Mandy didn’t answer me this time. She had already fallen out of her chair as she passed out and plopped onto the floor.

Okay, so I guess maybe I should rewind a few frames… Maybe even more than a few.

You see, we used to have an almost weekly get together with a group of friends, generally on a Friday or Saturday evening. We’d pick a “theme” for a meal, even if it was just potluck, and then cook together, eat together, and just generally hang out together. On this particular evening, as evidenced by the chopsticks in use, the theme was “Asian-American” food.

Now, I have to admit something here… I haven’t been entirely honest with you in the past. The truth is, in all of the blogs where I have pointed out that the Evil Redhead requires strict supervision in the kitchen, and would starve if there wasn’t something on hand to subject to the timed bursts of a microwave’s magnetron, I’ve been making it sound worse than it is.

The Tuna Helper incident notwithstanding…

So, it’s time I come clean: The Evil One prepares the best damn stir fry I have ever put in my mouth. Seriously. No kidding. Beats the holy hell out of Happy China Buffet, La Choy, Mandarin House, ad infinitum. You name an Asian-American restaurant out there and E K will whomp ’em good with her wooden spatulas and Wok.

Except that one time… And, as you are sure to have surmised, that one time is what this blog is all about… And, to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t ALL her fault. She just started the rice ball rolling, so to speak.

(Oh, and just so we are all on the same page – Yes, I know Sake is spelled Sake, not Sockee…)

The evening started out like any other weekly dinner gathering evening. Mandy and I were in the kitchen taking a backseat sous chef role to the Evil Redhead who was in charge of the meal, obviously due to her prowess with a wok. The rest of the crew were enjoying some before dinner drinks and wandering in and out of the kitchen to chat with us. As usual, we were having a before dinner drink or two ourselves.

Herein lies the problem – by this point in our marriage E K was already out of practice on her drinking AND she was imbibing on an empty stomach. Therefore, about halfway through preparation of one of the stir fry dishes, she crashed. Not hard, but she announced in no uncertain terms that she needed to sit down. This meant Mandy and I had to step up to the plate.

No biggie. I can cook, we all know that. Should be easy like pie… I mean, E K had the recipe sitting right out there on the counter, and several other folks were more than happy to roll up their sleeves and pitch in as well, lest E K beat them for not helping out. You know how she is…

Can you see where this is going yet? If not, keep reading… If so, still keep reading…

I jumped to the stove and took over the spatulas. One stir fry dish was already done, and Mandy was working on a batch of fried rice.

“Where did you leave off, Legs?” I asked my almost catatonic wife.

“Soggy,” she mumbled.

“Soggy?”

“Uhmmm-hmmm,” she said with a nod. “Sohhhggggeeeee.”

I ran down the list on the recipe and suddenly it made sense. Sake. Okay, all good. There was a bottle of it right there on the counter, so I tossed the sizzling meat around the wok then added the shot of sake called for on the ingredients. Back to the table I went to finish chopping the veggies.

“Do you want me to watch this?” Mandy called out.

I answered over my shoulder as the knife in my hand beat out a rhythm against the cutting board. “Yeah. I’ll be done here in just a second.”

“Where did you leave off?” she asked.

“Sake,” I told her.

“Okay.”

A few moments later I was tossing the veggies into the wok. However, instead of finding Mandy at the stove, one of our other friends was standing there, spatula in hand, looking somewhat lost.

“Where’s Mandy?” I asked.

“She had to use the bathroom. She asked me to watch the stove.”

“All good, I’ll take over now.”

“Thanks.”

E K mumbled something from behind, “Saaahhhhgggeeee.”

“What?” I asked, then looked at the recipe. “Oh yeah, Sake.”

I added a shot of Sake.

I could go on, as it didn’t end there, but I suspect you are all with me now if you weren’t already. Yep… When we compared notes the next day – post hangover, of course – we discovered that a recipe calling for 1 shot of sake had received something on the order of a half bottle of the rice booze and nowhere near enough stove top time to evaporate the alcohol – just enough to get it nice and warm…

Of course, it all worked out for the best. We all ended up drunk from the meal, so we had plenty of our other booze left over for the next dinner party…

More to come…

Murv