The point is that it works at all, not how good it is.
Actually it’s a Scottie moment in that you multiply by 3, double it for the Captain so he looks like a hero when he cuts you back to 75% of your inflated estimate and you wander off muttering “yah kannah brogue the laws of physics.” and stomp off to the holodeck to “prototype” your new Mary Sue AI.
Because it’s just a few whacks with a hammer isn’t it?
At my meeting today I was told I looked a little tired for a guy just off a fairly quiet month at a lake side cabin in the woods. I was a little tired. In the previous 36 hours I’d torn down and packed a setup from operational to bags in a car, driven, moved those into Stars Hollow and set them up, sleep, shower, and show.
I also had Gilmore moments happening. People working, some of them in state. We shall probably not be all together for another month.
Car availability check list. Critical appointments. Leaving preparations and last minute advice, for me the best news was I would not be required to be at Bradley 2 hours before flight time.
So I cooked, as much as you can call boiling water, margarine, and package mix from a standing start, simmering it for 7 minutes (covered) and letting it stand off heat for about 4 minutes. Now would be the time to jazz it up with, like live, jive frozen Broccoli florets instead of boiled Broccolli dust but at the Gilmore’s we’ve never met a vegetable.
No. That’s it. We’ve never met a vegetable.
Nor have we met a spice except salt and pepper and those in moderation. “If the meat is good enough…” said our Depression forebearers and that’s what this came down to, finally. Emily didn’t think much of the pre-cooked chicken strips Richard had bought and torpedoed his idea of this very same dinner because there wasn’t enough left of it to give everyone what she considered sufficient meat (it’s not really gruel if you have the odd eyeball floating in it, then it’s eyeball stew and costs twice as much).
Plan B has exploded in an entertaining way if you like “Meltdowns for 1000, Alex” and since my attendance was required my siblings fled, no doubt laughing up their sleeves. We’ll see when they read the will, that’s all I’m saying.
Anyway, by meticulously following the directions on the package I have arrived at the moment where it’s time to throw in whatever eyeballs you want.
Emily has already chopped her favored chicken to the tiniest possible pieces to notice and has finally and grudgingly attacked the offending poultry on the basis of “people are stupid and don’t care- at least I’ll be rid of it.”
Of course ordering me out of the way gives her agency which is fine, I’m a bad son because everyone knows there is no chance in the world I’m even tasting this. I don’t like chicken, at least the way my family does which is the least flavorful and uninteresting part treated in conventional ways. Chicken thighs are interesting, chicken breasts are not. Tenderized breasts can be used to display sauces, but so can seafood. There is no need for them in Parmigiana, breaded eggplant actually tastes better. Marsala, a sweet wine pan gravy with mushrooms and Maillard, and Française (lemon, butter, white wine, garlic) are about the only exceptions. Française hardly belongs because it’s a classic Scampi taste (more lemon) and a seasoned breadcrumb crust.
Personally? Aglio e Olio works for me. I do not need chunky eyeballs in my pasta though I can make them interesting- Feta, Kalamata, Oregano work for you? ‘Shrooms with that? I’m not really even a vegetarian, just given the choice between meat and potatoes I’m as likely to choose potatoes with cheddar, bacon, broccoli, butter, sour cream, and chives.
Before we get exotic.
I ended up with pre-grilled dogs which suits me fine (more rat!). I was free to do the deep de-brief while others ate. I shut people up with my intimidating awesomeness which is always my private goal.
When I got back my sister was about the first to greet me and she told me this joke about how she pulled a “Trump.” It was a really long and pointless narrative that actually lost focus leading into the “punch line” of how she had used a double negative only to skip a negative and draw the wrong interpretation of her statement of which both interpretations were provably false.
Oops.
See, I would have referenced Rosemary Woods and sneered at the ignorant. It was funny but not hah hah funny because you had to remember the details.
So she tried it again at dinner with the same result, I feel vindicated!
Now I am faced with tomorrow’s dilemmas, which are hopefully less fraught.