Cooking

The inimitable Mr.Keating of Dead Poet’s Society fame said the reason men need to learn how to write is to woo women but that is only partially true.

Trust me, I know that in addition to words a man who knows how to cook a fine meal has a solid opportunity to catch a lady’s eye. Ask the Shmata Queen about the meals I made for her and you’ll hear stories about how I never cooked but that is only because she doesn’t want to share my culinary skills with you.

I told her not to worry about it because though I am a fabulous cook I hate the clean up so very much I am often reluctant to really put my skills to use.

In spite of my massive distaste for doing dishes there are moments when I give in to the desire to cook and it is not just because Hunger Does Strange Things To Men.

Ninety Minutes Of Driving

This past Saturday night I was supposed to attend a family event that was located over hill and dales somewhere between the lower Cuyahoga and West Hollywood.

Those few of you who didn’t fail U.S. geography might try to figure out the relationship between a fiery river in Cleveland and West Hollywood but don’t worry because a good writer will make things clear for you and I am a good writer.

I was supposed to hit a party that was about 20 miles from my home and due to traffic I spent enough time to end up on a fucking river across the country.

Ok, that is not entirely true because 90 minutes in the car doesn’t account for the two hours it would take to go through security and the couple of hours in the air plus the deplaning and commute to the damn river.

But had I actually made it to the airport I might have at least enjoyed being groped by a large sweaty TSA official who would not have appreciated me saying “it is a little to the left” or “I don’t usually put out on the first date.”

I know the route to the restaurant like the back of my hand every time I take it I hear the sounds of my youth.

I always look in my rear view mirror to see if I can catch a glimpse of the boy, teenager and man who used to roll through the canyon looking for the remains of Houdini’s home and searching for some cool hideaway to make his own.

But this time all I saw was a canyon choked with traffic…both directions. I used every curse I knew and some I didn’t to express my displeasure. I didn’t want to go to the damn party to begin with but I did because it was the right thing to do and I like my kids to see that sometimes we do that which we don’t want to.

Beside the drive through the canyon is usually fun for me, even when filled with traffic it is also full of memories and some of the houses truly are cool to look at, but not that night.

It soon became clear that by the time I got through the family would be finished eating and so it seemed pointless to try to wait out whatever accident or incident had to led to this interference with passage through.

So I turned around and began to head back wondering if it was worth trying to go a different way or if I should go eat alone again.

Midway through the trip home I decided to hit a supermarket and grab a few items for a meal I was planning on making and then I remembered how foolish it is to shop when ravenous with hunger.

Everything looked good and it didn’t take much for an imagination like mine to come up with sights, smells and sounds of what I could be eating so as I grabbed my goods I picked up a container of pre-made dough for rolls.

I knew they wouldn’t compare to what could be made from scratch but the stomach grumbled and refused to wait to get it all together.

Took another five minutes to finish grabbing and navigating the aisles up to the checker so that I could pay and resume the march home.

hunger, Hunger, Hunger!!!

Once safely ensconced in my home I changed into more comfortable clothes and set about to cook my meal. Mere moments into it I discovered the store bought rolls/biscuit dough was missing so I grabbed my flip flops and walked out into the 45 degree night where I discovered a busted open can next to my car.

Not too far from the can were sad looking white doughy circles that would have tasted pretty good had they made it to the oven and not been run over.

I was almost hungry enough to try to apply the five second rule to them. Almost hungry enough to say that if they were baked at a high enough temperature all would be well but I wasn’t that hungry.

Hunger does strange things to a man but if you have options sometimes you choose to go a different direction and that is something I seem to be very good at.

Well played universe, you didn’t want me to go the damn party or eat those damn store bought rolls and somehow I turned a silly post into a comment about choosing the road less taken.

Pretty crafty universe, pretty crafty. That is a veteran move.

Got to run now, this man is hungry again and there is food in my fridge I must attend to, sadly it doesn’t contain any Shiner Bock or Mama’s pizza today.