BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

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

Well, I suppose that as far as the Chinese food goes it is really about as Chinese as La Choy beef Chow Mein in a can. You know, the Chow Mein you serve with the deep fried noodle things that everyone ends up dipping in chocolate and calling them cookies around the holidays. Yeah, that La Choy. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall their old commercial jingle saying, “La Choy makes Chinese food, swing American!” That was back in the 60’s and 70’s… Yeah, I’m kinda middle aged, don’t remind me. At any rate, with a catch phrase like that, it doesn’t sound all that Chinese I don’t guess. Kinda more Ameri-Asian fusion cuisine. “If you can call Chow Mein from a can cuisine,” I can hear EK saying even as I type. You see, she doesn’t really care for La Choy Chow Mein or any of their other canned meals for that matter. I think it has something to do with having it too often as a child or something. She’s never been very specific about that. She just sort of glazes over and makes her “bleh” face, so I kinda just don’t press the subject.

Me, on the other hand, I happen to like the stuff. Not as a regular diet sort of thing, but every now and then I like to grab a can just for the sake of nostalgia. Kinda like the peanut butter ‘n jelly sammich thing, or egg nog, or even my own personal version of the Saint Paul Sandwich…

But, then, I’m not here to talk to you about La Choy, or any of their products. Funny how I can sometimes digress before I even get started. I should probably see someone about that. Or not.

Anyway, let’s get down to brass tacks. Or “Forever Stamps”, or Postal Workers, or whatever…

You see, I received some snail mail yesterday. I know, seems somewhat antiquated doesn’t it? (Don’t tell my neighbor I said that. He’s a Postal Carrier)… But, even I have to admit, there are still things snail mail is good for. Christmas Cards for one. Checks for another. Well… Checks are pretty much the most important one when you get right down to it, but either way, let’s not get off track yet again. The long and short of it was that I went to the mailbox and there was a number 10 envelope, addressed quite simply to “Sellars”.

Not Murv Sellars. Not Mr. Sellars. Not M. R. Sellars. Not even to Rusty Sellars (long story – since my middle name is Russell and I am a Jr., when I was a kid my dad was Russell and I was Rusty. My name “changed” to Murv when I came into my “own” identity when I hit my early teens, just like every other adolescent child does at that age.)

No, this bit of snail mail was addressed to no one other than simply, “Sellars”.

Some of you may think this odd. Then again, maybe you don’t. I’m not there with you to look inside your ear and see what the gears and cogs are doing. But, suffice it to say, I didn’t find it all that peculiar myself. You see, there are a pretty healthy number of people on the planet who refer to me simply as “Sellars”… In fact, I believe some of you blog readers are among them. I blame Morrison for that, but as I tend to say often, that’s another blog…

However, as far as snail mail goes, there is but one individual (thus far) who sends anything to my house addressed simply to “Sellars”. Even Morrison herself addresses things to M. R. Sellars. Therefore, I didn’t even have to look at the return address to know that I had just received something from Dorothy Morrison’s husband, Mark.

Now, Mark and I are friends. He’s a hell of a guy. Funny, intelligent, not to mention that he’s married to my best friend. I’ve downed several drinks with him, watched Presidential debates with him, and generally just hung out. I love the guy dearly. But, we aren’t exactly what you would call pen pals. If he has something to tell me, he drops me an email. So, if I receive something in the SNAIL mail from him, even though it is addressed to “Sellars”, I know that it isn’t actually for me. It’s for my daughter.

Having a bit of trouble following that one? Well, let me see if I can explain.

You see, like many grammar school children across the United States, my daughter collects “Boxtops For Education” and takes them to school. Now, I’ll admit that I don’t always cook from scratch. I actually do buy a few boxes of burger helper now and again, and the munchkin also likes “Lucky Charms”, which is a General Mills product (creators and purveyors of the Boxtops for Edu program)… So, we do manage to collect our share of these School Funding Gems. But, not a ton of them. (I know, I know, get to the point…) Well, you see, I happened to mention this in passing when Morrison and I were on tour a couple of years back, because we do try to nab boxtops from folks we know who might be unaware and simply throwing them away. And, as it happens, Mark took this to heart. He began collecting boxtops for our munchkin’. In fact, not only does he collect them, he doesn’t even wait for the package of whatever foodstuff to be used first. He goes through with a razor blade and pre-emptively removes the Boxtops for Education seal so that it won’t accidentally end up in the trash. Then, once his “boxtops dish” on the counter is full he pours them into an envelope and mails them to, “Sellars”.

Now, there was once this faux pas where when he poured the boxtops into the envelope the razor blade – still ensconced in its little cardboard sheath – unknowingly made it into the envelope as well. We’ve had plenty of fun with that one. In fact, I still have it sitting here on my desk. Maybe I’ll have it bronzed for him and put it on a plaque… anyone know what it would cost to have a single edge razor blade bronzed and mounted? (Yeah, there I go digressing again…)

So, back to the story. What it comes down to is that once again, Mark came through with a load of Boxtops for Education. Not only is this good for the school because they turn them in to General Mills for money, which in turn helps them do things like build a new Gymnasium, or get more books, and what have you, but it is also good for the kids. Why? Because they benefit from the books, new Gym, etc, obviously. But, it is also great for my kid on yet another front. Not only does she reap the educational benefit, but since they run a bit of a Boxtops for Education contest at her school, it helps her numbers. In fact, last year she turned in so many boxtops that she won this Gi-Hugic blue dolphin stuffed animal (the school mascot)…

BTW, if you don’t have kids, or don’t happen to know any kids who need Boxtops for Education, and you are merely tossing them in the trash, I’ll gladly give you my PO Box address and you can send them to “Sellars” just like Mark does. (Please DO NOT send razor blades…) Just think, the munchkin might win another blue dolphin. If she keeps it up, she might end up with a whole pod…

So…That pretty much covers snail mail and boxtops. I’m sure you are now thinking, “Yeah, okay, so what about the Chinese food, because you said you weren’t here to talk about La Choy…”

Well… You’re right about that. La Choy isn’t the Chinese food you’re looking for… Move along… (sorry, Obi-wan… Just couldn’t help myself…)

Anyway, I suppose I should explain the Chinese food reference in the blog title. You see, it has to do with Spam™…

Okay, so did anyone hurt his or her neck with the whole snapping back of the head in a major WTF moment? I hope not, because I don’t have insurance on this blog…

Yeah. Spam™… You see, I’ve never made a secret of my love for Spam™…and it’s equally tasty and much less expensive twin, Treet™. In fact, ever since my Spam™/Treet™ blog some time ago, I have been treated (pun most certainly intended) to fried Spam™ for breakfasts at various events and bookstores where I have been booked for a signing. I’ve had Spam™ sandwiches for lunch. Spam™ in salads. I mean, it’s been downright wonderful, because yes, I really do like Spam™. But, as you can imagine, (as you might be one of these folks of whom I speak) many people find this little culinary quirk of mine endlessly amusing. In fact, some of the times I have been served Spam™ at events it has been as a joke. Well, I have to tell you, that’s my kind of joke so keep on joking and laughing folks. I’m all about it… (Grin)

Anyway, among the folks who find this amusing are Morrison and her husband Mark.

“But, Sellars, just what in the holy hell does this have to do with Chinese food,” you ask, with a befuddled and somewhat annoyed expression creasing your features.

So glad you asked…

You see, this time, instead of just Boxtops arriving in the mail for my daughter, there actually WAS something in the envelope for me. No, it wasn’t another razor blade… Actually it was a recipe, clipped from the newspaper.

A recipe for Spam™ Fried Rice.

Really. I kid you not.

And, just in case you think I am making this up, here is a picture of the actual and very real newspaper clipping…

Thanks, Mark. I can’t wait to try it out… In fact, I have a can of Treet™ sitting in the cupboard right now, and I’m sure the author of the recipe won’t mind the substitution since those tasty, rectangular can shaped blocks of chicken and pork leavin’s are completely interchangeable.

And, you know…just for nostalgia’s sake, I think I’ll use La Choy soy sauce…

More to come…

Murv