Firstly, “I don’t cook food…..I will it.” Secondly, some people were born to bake and cook – I am not one of those people. Although, if forced to choose, I’ve heard that cooking is an art while baking is a science. Therefore, I pick science where things are measured, calculated, tested, etc. Thirdly, while I do not cook – I have an odd fascination with all programs on Food Network.
Speaking of Food Network….oh my, how the mighty have fallen. Here are a few, to use Guy Fier’s lingo, “on the bus to flavor town” only the bus is really taking them into exile. Ina Garten (Barefoot Contessa); I need a money tree in the backyard in order to make any of your recipes. Fortunately, I DO have a multitude of gay men to cook for and they are, by and large, always ready to eat. That’s about the only component of your show I am able to comply with…everything else is too pretentious, expensive, and real people can’t eat like you’re suggesting. As for the “kids in the kitchen week”, I can’t wait to make your White Pizza with Arugula, Figs and Prosciutto, and Fois Gras for the children. Can you hear it now? That’s the sound of the Failboat on its way here for Ina. Only we didn’t use the Failboat, we carted you away in one of the BMW’s from your fleet in the Hamptons Sandra Lee; you must be pulled off the air. You took an Entemann’s Pound Cake out of the box, slapped it on your tablescape with your sticky-ass fingers (yes, you put them in your mouth too much) and smeared tapioca pudding on top of the cake. Now hold on – Sandra’s not done– she dressed this “messipe” with Valentines Candy Hearts. What the fuck is that? Kill it with fire!! It must be a kid’s treat for her nephew Bricer. Sip some more vodka Aunt Sandy. Maybe I should be applauding her for having the guts to put such a messipe on television? Guy Fieri; I get sick to my stomach whenever I watch you on the air and you should be publically lambasted as much as possible. For me, it all started when I noticed that you autographed your own refrigerator that is on the set of your cooking show. Bobby Flay; you know what, I like you, you’re saved. Back to spaghetti squash:
The Craving
I woke up one day with a craving and decided I wanted a big ole spaghetti squash. I know what you are thinking. “You DO know what the word craving means, right Melissa?” After the clusterfuck that would later be referred to as “fuck this squash” ended – I realized that I should have just fought this craving from the get-go. I believe that a craving is brought on by stress, anxiety, anger, and guilt – but I just can’t put my finger on how I got to Spaghetti Squash.
The Accomplice
Rachel decided to purchase the squash and present it to me in the office. Silly Van Der Cheese assumed Rachel would be cooking the squash, but you know what happens when you assume something. Sometimes you’re right and sometimes you’re wrong. Most people thought Rachel’s gift was really just a ploy to figure out if my oven worked. Other things I have assumed in life, but have been mistaken; (1) Roxanne likes doggie clothes, (2) People will not try on shoes in the store using their bare feet – see earlier blog entry, (3) I assumed Bruce Willis finally stopped making movies, but I see Die Hard 5 is in pre-production, so we’ll all get another dose of John Maclane.
Cutting: Have you ever tried to cut a spaghetti squash?
Okay – cutting through that mother fucker was the most dreadful experience. Dear GOOGLE , you were no help since the article just said “Use a large sharp knife and watch your fingers.” Gee – thanks culinary masters of the world for that perfect advice. I did think about just throwing it repeatedly down against the cement at my neighbor Kerry’s house. (Kerry and Kevin covered our cars with industrial plastic wrap. We had to disrobe them in the Noah’s Ark rain therefore, they are just asking for a little squash on the cement).
Scrape it into a cauldron of awesomeness (bowl)
My, my, my – when you scrape the squash– it pulls apart into this spaghetti like formation – amazinballs! Now, what do I do with it? PS; The innards will be hot when it comes out of the oven – some people learn that the hard way. And by “hot” I mean blazing and scorching heat. Scorching like that newly built Las Vegas Hotel (Vdara) with what they have termed the “death rays.” The sun rays are literally bouncing off the funky, concave hotel windows and these death rays fry the innocent sun bathers at the pool down below. Looks like someone “assumed” this giant magnifying glass was safe. Back to spaghetti squash. My co-worker, Matt, had declared his fondness for spaghetti squash, so I saved some to bring into the office for him. Next time, I should just buy the guy a cup of coffee because this was an epic fail and I fear that he could in fact be judging me now. Well, it is Judicial Affairs – a place for total judgment. I brought Matt his Cauldron of Awesomeness and placed it in the office refrigerator last week. This is where things normally take a turn for the worse because I’ll leave things in that refrigerator and forget.
I did get around to informing Matt that the sloppy yellow pile of goodness in the refrigerator did, in fact, belong to him. While he appeared to be grateful, I do believe we misconstrued his fondness for spaghetti squash. I later learned that he had one good side order of this squash at a restaurant once and said it was fantastic. I don’t think the guy is routinely eating spaghetti squash, but nonetheless he is now the proud owner of a cauldron of awesomeness. Enjoy it Matt…..You’re Welcome Buddy.
Will I ever try to cook spaghetti squash again?
Indeed! I need to prove to myself that I can do this. I can use the oven. I can cut a vegetable in half. I can make something that is edible and easily digestible. I read an article that dared to proclaim that spaghetti squash is “fun.” Er, you do know what fun is, correct? Fun for me was when I used to serve secret recipe pizza with my teenage friends in a coastal town in Connecticut. This is the type of “coming of age” type of fun that would take me at least 90 minutes to explain. In short, tt was fun because I started dating a guy from the money side of the tracks – although I always wondered if I would truly be accepted by his family. It was also fun to impress the notoriously fussy food critic who visited the pizza parlor…wait a minute…I know this story!
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