So people have been wondering why I make soup for dinner just about every night. Well, that's easy - Just like Econ, it's all about the markets. See, the markets here are like your general store meets a Wawa/7-11/QuickChek (Bonus points for those who actually know *what* a QuickChek is...) So you have your basic milk and juice (which you always have to check for expiry dates), packaged soups, lots of pasta, some crackers and pretzels, sodas, candy, and sometimes a meat counter.
This is where you get into trouble. See, I have no idea how to *cook* market meat. So when I went to Davor's store (which his wife runs), he convinced me to buy some of this Market Meat, which look like hotdogs, but wrapped in a non-edible wrap (I tried, read more on that later) So I bought some, and finally got around to cooking them. "Just put them in the water and boil the water" said Davor.
Apparently Davor hasn't seen the pot I use to boil. It's not very big-In fact, I had to wedge the meat (which came in 2 sections of 2) against the walls of the pot to cook. I put the water on to boil and sat down to read. Suddenly I hear a noise, like something has jumped down from someplace high. Assuming it was one of the GDMF Birds(tm) that like to attack me when I put up laundry, sit on the line and stare into my apartment with a look that say "Yeah, you *think* you're getting these clothes back...", I ignore it. Then I hear it again, only with a tad bit less "Kathunk" this time. I decide to investigate.
Now, I'm a smart person, or at least Mommy says I am. And I was able to deduce afterwards what happened quickly enough. See, I forgot that heat makes things expand. Including wedged meat products. That gives enough pressure inside the tubes the Market Meat sits in to expand, and, since they were wedged V-shape one set of two on top of the other, I inadvertently invented the first meat-a-pult, at least the first in my flat at any rate. Meanwhile I now have one dangerously undercooked Market Meat pair and one slighty more cooked Market Meat set. So, screwing my courage to the sticking place (Better known as the side of the refrigerator, but that's another story) and keeping my bottle of Anti-Biotic handy, I try to cut the Market Meat Sleeve.
It doesn't cut.
I slash at it, saw at it, hack at it, pry at it. It's acting like pleather. Deciding that nothing this tough could be organic, much less healthy, I decide to dump out the now pink water in the pot, scrub it out with my questionable sponges, and make soup. At least that doesn't try to escape.
Oh, and for those wonder the fate of the Market Meat, I decided against tossing it on the far side of my roof, for the GDMF birds would probably not eat it out of spite and instead hide it in my pants on the line...
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1 comment:
I'm thinking about becoming a vegetarian. Goat doesn't suit me and seeing them cut off the chicken's head that you're about to eat makes me lose my appetite
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