Check this one out.
Yesterday I was again taking advantage of my parents' proximity by stopping in to use some of their tools to make a repair to a backpack. As it was a nice day, I was outside. My father came outside to join me, and kindly offered me something to eat. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate his love, concern and generous offer. But as I was focused on what I was doing I didn't really look up as he came out to talk to me.
"Hey I just wanted to let you know that I made some spaghetti if you want some."
Sensible enough. What a guy! "Thanks Dad!"
"Yeah, I cooked it up in bacon grease as a sauce," slurping sound, "I don't recommend it."
I looked up to see my Dad brandishing a gallon-sized tupperware tub full of rust-red spaghetti. The walls of the tub are coated in grease. Cooper has noodles dangling from his mouth.
My Sister later hipped me to the fact that there had been a massive bacon-cooking earlier in the week, followed by an explicit request not to dump the grease down the sink because "it's bad for the drain." Fortunately, Cooper found an inventive solution for the ecological dilemma and an appropriate repository for said grease: his interior with the aid of pasta.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Raw Hamburger with Raw Garlic on White Bread
The idea for recording examples of my Father's singularly unique and frequently counter-intuitive experiments in cuisine existed before this blog did, so we will begin with the incident that inspired the whole enterprise, which happened a couple summers ago.
Living in the same city as my parents allows me to take advantage of the guilty pleasure of popping in completely unannounced and catching them off guard. The backdoor to my parent's house leads straight to the kitchen, my Father's favorite room in the house, so its not rare to catch him red-handed mixing kimchi with mayonnaise or pouring jerk sauce over sliced wheat-bread. On one such occasion, my Mother was out of town and my Father thought he had the place to himself. What a great opportunity to come bursting into the kitchen! Upon so doing, my nose was immediately walloped by an overpowering and complicated smell, mostly garlic and meaty, as if a line cook who had just worked a triple were slapping me across the face. My Father turned sheepishly to greet me.
"Dad, what are you eating?"
Mouth stuffed, he replied by extending a hand, in which there rested a stinking pink wad. Raw onion loaf batter? No, much worse. Turns out the menu du jour featured raw hamburger, stuffed with raw garlic cloves, with a slice of wonder bread sort of pounded into a mantle around it. "Your Mom doesn't really let me get away with this sort of thing. Want some?"
The stench really can't be exaggerated. It's amazing that he could get it close enough to his face to put it into his mouth. I excused myself but could still smell the "burger" two rooms away.
Apologies to my Dad for ratting him out to my Mom.
Living in the same city as my parents allows me to take advantage of the guilty pleasure of popping in completely unannounced and catching them off guard. The backdoor to my parent's house leads straight to the kitchen, my Father's favorite room in the house, so its not rare to catch him red-handed mixing kimchi with mayonnaise or pouring jerk sauce over sliced wheat-bread. On one such occasion, my Mother was out of town and my Father thought he had the place to himself. What a great opportunity to come bursting into the kitchen! Upon so doing, my nose was immediately walloped by an overpowering and complicated smell, mostly garlic and meaty, as if a line cook who had just worked a triple were slapping me across the face. My Father turned sheepishly to greet me.
"Dad, what are you eating?"
Mouth stuffed, he replied by extending a hand, in which there rested a stinking pink wad. Raw onion loaf batter? No, much worse. Turns out the menu du jour featured raw hamburger, stuffed with raw garlic cloves, with a slice of wonder bread sort of pounded into a mantle around it. "Your Mom doesn't really let me get away with this sort of thing. Want some?"
The stench really can't be exaggerated. It's amazing that he could get it close enough to his face to put it into his mouth. I excused myself but could still smell the "burger" two rooms away.
Apologies to my Dad for ratting him out to my Mom.
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