I had a craving for pork chops. I don’t know why, but I needed pork chops & it was sure that I would not rest until that need was fulfilled.
What I was really craving was pork chops with Shake ‘N Bake. I really love that stuff. Only one problem: no Shake ‘N Bake in France.
Ok, no need to panic. I’ve gotten used to substituting, improvising & recreating due to the fact that a great number of things that I love to eat & cook with are nonexistent in this country.
“It shall be done.” I declared to no one. “I will create my very own Shake ‘N Bake…the likes of which have not yet been tasted by mortal men.”
I set to work at once. I began throwing ingredients into a zip lock bag with wild abandon. A little flour, some breadcrumbs…some choice herbs & spices: a little salt, some pepper…some fresh thyme that I had recently dried for cooking.
Feeling giddy about my impending Shake ‘N Bake feast, I removed a box of precious Rice-A-Roni from the pantry. Rice-A-Roni doesn’t exist in France, either – I had some friends that were visiting from the states bring me a fresh supply a couple of months ago.
Rice-A-Roni. Shake ‘N Bake. This was seriously going to rock me.
Olivier returned home from work & we immediately set to commencing our gluttonous feast. I took a bite of my pork chop & instantly felt…sand. Yeah…fucking sand. I turned to Olivier as I slowly chewed my gritty pork.
“Something doesn’t taste right.” I said. “The texture is all wrong.”
Olivier put his head down & turned his eyes up to look at me. “I didn’t want to say anything.” He said cautiously.
“I don’t get it. Why does it taste like fucking dirt?”
“Did you use thyme?”
“Yeah.”
“Umm…did you clean it first? It was fresh…maybe there was still a little bit of dirt on it.”
“Shit.”
We bought a bottle of thyme the next day. I still haven’t had that pork chop. Well, not a clean one, anyway.
[tags]Food, France, Cooking, Shake ‘n Bake, Rice-A-Roni, Dirt[/tags]
Here’s your problem, you’re using bread crumbs. Use smashed up corn flakes instead. Add “secret hobo spices.” Works excellently.
Well, my myspace page got deleted. I was pissed, until I did a little research and found out that you can delete someone’s page if you know their email address. I complained to myspace and they told me to go fuck myself, which I did. Afterwards, I got pissed off and I founded the ministry of silence. I was pretty sick of the gayness which is myspace (not to insult the card carrying homos I call friends, but they use the adjective too). Tom’s mouth is firmly affixed around Rupert Murdoch’s cock. Google it, you’ll find it.
Obviously I’m smashed, on a combination of german beer and danish tobacco, which is pathetic seeing as how this state has decriminalized up to an ounce of pot. No matter, I soldier on. While the ministry is getting off the ground I have a personal page at http://www.ministryofsilence.com /forward slash/ my first name, which I’m not posting because I’m tired of dealing with douches. I read your post/blog/clip of david duwhatsit bitching about how the internet is the lowest common denominator of human communication, which I dig. That’s why the ministry will be a one-way affair, with me telling people what I think and as a way to impose my consciousness on the rest of humanity (citation: stolen).
Good luck with your pursuit of subverting the mainstream to your whims. I’ve always said, if not somewhat inconsistently, that subverting the massess is a worthy, uh, thing.
I have to practice drums for an hour tomorrow. And practice “Back in Black”, which I will be performing in a strip club in a month. True story, I’m too drunk to lie.
nuttocks…..