Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Wednesday, October 09, 2002 I had a fairly memorable dinner last night, and I thought I’d share the recipe with all of you so you can have a similar experience. Here’s how you make what I like to call “Pot Pie a la M. Giant.”
1. Buy a frozen pot pie.
2. Bring it to work one morning so you can microwave it for lunch. Don’t bother checking to see if it’s microwaveable.
3. At lunchtime, open the box and discover that it’s in one of the old-style aluminum foil pans and therefore cannot be microwaved unless you want to be known for the rest of your tenure as the guy who blew up the microwave.
4. Stick the pie back in the box. Stick the open box back in the freezer. Walk down to the deli in your building so you can spend twelve dollars on a turkey sandwich for lunch.
5. Forget about the open pot pie in the freezer at work for at least a week.
6. Bring home the pot pie in the open box. Stick it in the freezer at home. Forget about it for a month or so.
7. Stick it in the oven for dinner one night. Don’t forget to cut a slit in the top crust. We don’t have to be entirely unorthodox here.
8. After cooking for half the time suggested on the box, make a fast-food run to satisfy spouse’s sudden, inexplicable craving (no, she’s not pregnant). Turn the oven off and leave pot pie in while it cools.
9. Return home with fast food. Eat fast food with spouse.
10. Remove dried-out, slightly overdone pot pie from 120-degrees-and-cooling oven and stick in fridge uncovered.
11. Wait one day.
12. Get home from work twenty minutes before Buffy. Dump cold pot pie out of aluminum foil pan and onto plate. Microwave for three minutes.
14. Okay, maybe “enjoy” would be too strong a word. Unless by “enjoy” you mean “pick reluctantly at what looks like the steaming, flaccid remains of some small, bald, woodland creature dropped from a great height as you wonder where the potatoes went, what caused the carrots to take on the consistency of asphalt in July, how the crust turned into sodden cardboard, and why all of the turkey chunks are dark meat.”
So it takes a little more time than the standard method. That’s how you know you’re going to end up with something really special. I subscribe to Bon Appetit magazine, but I maintain that the finest culinary delights are the ones that you discover for yourself. Mmm, yum-tastic.
In related news, nobody, but nobody is going to listen to me if I bitch about the food in New York now.
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Speaking of which, I can’t promise updates for the next few days. We’re staying with a friend in Manhattan, but who knows whether she has a computer she’ll let me use, and I’m not about to go out and stand on some isolated dirt road all morning waiting for some farmer to maybe pick me up in a ’58 Ford pickup on his way to into “town” in hopes of finding a storefront Internet café somewhere. Depending on how cut off from civilization I end up being on this trip, you may just have to get through a weekday or two without me. But it could be worse. You could be me. posted by M. Giant 3:24 PM 0 comments