Right now, I don’t cook my own food. Primarily for two reasons – (a) We still don’t have a gas connection at home, because my previous roommate, he with the spanking new job and wife, absconded with the cylinder, the burner and the papers, ( which were in his name, so you can hardly blame him ). (b) I am a lazy bum. The most I can do to get some food down my throat is to pay someone some money ( either before or after I am fed ) or NOT pay someone any money and get fed and well, that’s it. Self-service is ok, too, the kind of self-service which involves getting a plate filled with food from one table to another.
So it was kind of an anomaly, me hunting around the fridge, late yesterday night, looking for things I can stuff down my throat and return to whatever it is I was doing ( more on that later ) and wasting as little time as possible. Usually, the fridge lies empty, our consummables not subjected to low temperatures because, well, as I just pointed out in (a), there be no high temperature-inducing entity that can make it eatable again. Bar the occasional doughnut from Baker’s Inn that no one ate the night it was bought, because they were too busy hogging on sandai kozhi from The Hub. ( sandai kozhi: country chicken, from what Jay tells me. I was trying to show off my savvy-ness of Tamil, but I believe in giving credit where it’s due. ) and which lies uneaten and untended to, till the time someone decides to do some social service ( the ants in our flat have a roaring social life ) and clears the fridge. So I was not too hopeful, as I opened the door of the refrigerator and peered inside.
It was a moment worthy of a John Williams theme, I tell you. The kind of theme music that changed Star Wars from a raft in cultural backwaters to the saviour of The Spaghetti Scifi as we know it now. ( Soaring strings, glorious choruses, the works ) For inside the fridge, I found an unopened pack of sliced bread ( If it were unsliced bread, I bet I would have balked at having to go to the kitchen and slicing it up ) and ( all of you please say “hallelujah” after me ) A PLASTIC CAN FILLED WITH CHICKEN. Just to make things clearer, the can had a label that read “The Hub” and the chicken inside was definitely dead and curryfied to a very appetising level ( as the standard test of dip-dinger-lick-finger-slurp showed) Right. So I was hungry, and my dear roommates, the guys who had gone out to have their dinner and get some for me in the process were late, so I decided to drop my aversion towards preparing my food and proceeded to shape the chunks of chicken curry on the slices, to make ( purists please do not crib! ) a variety of chicken sandwich.
All done in about five minutes and a half, and it took me just three more minutes to finish my humble concoction. I was happy, filled with the kind of bubbly Wodehousy happiness that wells up in you when you realise that there are hundreds of skunky aliens ready to die at your hands ( Half Life: Opposing Force for those who are interested ), and your mouse is a new optical one, and your hands have been rendered steadier because of your (very professional, if I may so ) ingenuous handling of the food that undoubtedly had been stored by one of your roommates for another day.
Sometime later, my roommates walk in, bearing a packet which I guessed was my dinner. Very pleased with myself ( and yet, acting very humble and semi-hungry), I informed them that I had been unable to withstand my sinful tummy’s questions, and had done so-and-so things with such-and-such things, and I was very sorry and all that.
And those buggers start laughing.
Seems the chicken curry was a week old. And they were planning to throw it out, but each thought that the other would do it, and hence it didn’t get thrown out, and that’s why it was so bloody frozen and for god’s sake, it was all in my freakin’ stomach now, so there wasn’t much I could do about it, was there? Hell. That’s the last time I indulge in culinary activities that involve frozen stuff in my fridge.All of a sudden, the aliens seemed much deadlier than before, and the fried rice that my conscentious friends, the lazy freakheads, had brought for me didn’t seem too palatable at all, so I chucked the game and dinner, and watched Akira instead.
..he with the spanking new job and wife .
Spanking!
Fie oh fie. My delicate ears cannot handle this.
*faints*
Hub?
Did you say hub?
the hub thing was older. much older. From before I came.
the week old thing was from anna purna or anupama or something.
and that was eatable.
would still be eatable if it weren’t finished.
:)
Oh. Nice.
My stomach feels so much better now.
Ass.
got news for u … if it was hub it was one of those vintage chickens. Even i dont remember how old it was. N the annapurna stuff kela, we finished it last time. Well kela we can talk abt vintage booze n satya can talk abt vintage chicken
Hehehe… sounds so much like something I’d do. I’m one of those eat-when-there’s-no-additional-work-involved-besides-gulping-the-food-down type of people too.
Quite amusing, to say the least. :)
Sarika
Well, it wasn’t too amusing just then, I tell you.
Badly cooked Sandai Kozhi tastes like crap, whereas nicely-cooked SK is heavenly, whereas with regular chicken, all of it tastes the same, and it is pretty hard to fuck up, anyway. Mmmmm, been awhile …
Yeah, I learnt the hard way too. I don’t use common stuff from the fridge unless I bought it myself ;/
I am learning, I am learning. :)
Is Akira good? I started watching it some time ago but didn’t get a chance to watch beyond 10 minutes.
It’s magnificent. :)
your grammar is perfect. am sure you are one of‘s favourite pupils.god,the man really has me shaken!
http://www.livejournal.com/users/jayasankarvs/73072.html
god,the man really has me shaken!
A Stir is Born!!!
er..doesn’t that qualify for his pet peeve regarding smart alecky puns??:P
My puns aren’t smart alecky, they are just confusing. ;-)
Besides, I think, deep in his heart, Jay loves humanity. Regardless of whether they make smart-alecky puns or not.
Does he? :)
:-D
My treat? :(
Your treat! when? where? :-D
Its a trap. He dint get his salary yet (:|
Oh, don’t worry. Living alone can render a man’s stomach quite invulnerable.
Ah yes, my stomach didn’t react as strongly as I thought it would.
light at the end of the tunnel.
or should I say ‘Rocky theme’?
I’ve been where you are. But give it time.
Today, lasagne’s a mere flip of the wrist. *narcissistic grin*
–
The one thing that really bothers me when I occasionally [can’t imagine everyday!] cook is that while I might experiment alchemistically for an hour or so to create something that at least I’d personally deem edible, it’s all finished in less than ten minutes. *sigh* really doesn’t seem worth it.
Re: light at the end of the tunnel.
“experiment”, eh?
Hmm. You know, I probably wouldn’t come for dinner at your place. Even if I did, I would get my medical insurance done first. “Experiment”. *Shudder*
Re: light at the end of the tunnel.
heh. remember that De Groot and Turk comic book called Leonardo? :) Experiment indeed.
Poor Beatzo and his Culinary Adventures
Hey buddy,
Sorry for your gastronomical angst
And the rest too…
Love…and all the other stuff to make you EJGF more green…for Iago said “Jealousy is a green eyed monster”
Priyanka
Sphagetti sci-fi tune went chicken, huh!