Tag Archives: meal

1499. Please pass the condiments

Nancy wasn’t so much a snob as someone who gained her superiority with put-downs. She made herself big by making others small.

When she invited the ladies from the canasta club for lunch she announced that the theme was Korean. She spent the entire luncheon saying things such as “Daphne, would you pass the cheonggukjang, please” or “Marjory, would you pass the myeongnan-jeot”. Of course, Daphne and Marjory didn’t have a clue what cheonggukjang and myeongnan-jeot were, because on the table Nancy had also placed nabak-kimchi, guljeot, and bagoóng alamáng.

“I would’ve thought that bagoóng alamáng was more from the Philippines,” suggested Eleanor. But it fell on deaf ears.

“What would you know?” spouted Nancy.

The following week it was Eleanor’s turn to host the lunch. The theme, announced Eleanor, is Chinese.

“Could you pass the soy sauce please, Nancy,” said Eleanor.

“Which one is that?” asked Nancy.

“It’s the bottle with 黃豆醬 on the label, stupid.”

Poem 52: Gobbler’s lament

(The form chosen for this week is the rondel).

‘Twas the eve of Thanksgiving Day.
I’m not at all grateful, he said.
There’s no fun in losing one’s head,
Then roasted and carved on a tray;

Sage stuffed up your bum all the way
With mushrooms and spice mixed with bread.
‘Twas the eve of Thanksgiving Day.
I’m not at all grateful, he said.

So how would you like, come what may,
To be basted when you are dead?
Thank God for this turkey well-fed,
Big drumsticks, plump breast, they all pray.
‘Twas the eve of Thanksgiving Day.
I’m not at all grateful, he said.

1112. Stone Age mealtime conversation

Adzehead: My word, Wildhoneysuckle, this boiled food is absolutely delicious.

Wildhoneysuckle: It’s beaver tail boiled in fresh spring water with a touch of cress and a pinch of salt.

Adzehead: And this dish here… scrumptious. What is it?

Wildhoneysuckle: It’s mammoth heart stuffed with seasonal juniper berries, and slow roasted in an iron pan, which is the latest technology.

Adzehead: And this here is the best of all. What is it?

Wildhoneysuckle: You should know! We have it regularly.

Adzehead: Yes of course. I don’t know how those Neanderthals eat such crappy food yet taste so good.

783. The Robinson Family eats

783robinson

The Robinson family didn’t sit down together for a meal very often. Occasionally, Elizabeth Robinson would insist her husband and their four sons come together and share a meal “like proper people”.

There was Bill. He was the Dad. Dad was in charge. Someone has to be in charge when you have four sons all in their teens.

Fritz was the oldest boy. He was nineteen, and rarely home. He was either working at the factory or out with his girlfriend. Occasionally he would doss down at home. Today he was gulping down his food because he was in a hurry. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” said his father. “It’s not often we get to sit down as a family.”

Ernest was the second son. He was seventeen. He was an apprentice mechanic. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend but was usually either dog-tired after a day’s work or doing the party thing. Today he was gulping down his food because he was in a hurry. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” said his father. “Chew your food properly.”

Then there was Jack. Jack was fifteen and still at school. He was very studious. He was hoping to be an industrial chemist of some sort when he grew up; or maybe some kind of forensic scientist. Today he was eating his food slowly, chewing each mouthful like he was deep in thought. “Hurry up with your food,” said his father. “We don’t want to be here all day.”

The youngest was Franz. He was a bit of a mummy’s-boy. He liked staying home, and was addicted to his computer. Today he was gulping down his food because he was in a hurry to get back to a computer game. “Slow down!” said his father.

“Why?” asked Franz.

“If you’re going to masticate,” said his father, “masticate properly.”

Franz went a deep purple. His three brothers hooted with laughter.