Tag Archives: food

Mar 08 2012
22 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Two minute read

How to Eat Mayonnaise Out of a Jar

I spell yoghurt with an h. Sue me.

This morning while wearing a cardigan I became hungry in the middle of class. At that moment, I pulled a jam jar filled with plain yoghurt out of my purse and started to eat it (the yoghurt). To the common observer, I was eating mayonnaise. Not only that, I was dipping McVitties Digestive biscuits in the mayonnaise. These delicious biscuits (better referred to as tea cookies for the American reader) are usually topped with Nutella, jam, peanut butter, or all three. Putting mayonnaise on them is ill advised and would likely result in the nausea of all parties involved, especially the biscuit. Yet this is what my classmates saw me doing.

While looking for an appropriately sized container for 6 oz. of yoghurt earlier that morning, I hadn’t thought of the fact that using a jam jar would make me look like a mayonnaise gobbling creep. To be honest, it’s not certain that anyone even noticed me as I was sitting in the corner with my jar, spoon, and white dairy substance. I certainly wasn’t looking at them, engrossed in the delicate effort of eating yoghurt out of a jar without making clinking sounds.

Later on, while despairing in the computer lab because of a lost internet connection, I noticed the striking similarity between my yoghurt lined jam jar and a jar that had once been full of mayonnaise. This was not the hope I had been looking for. “Ew,” I thought. Then I wondered how my classmates had reacted, if they had even noticed at all. How would they have responded to the strange sight of a fellow student slurping down mayonnaise and cookies in the morning? I can only imagine their thought bubbles….

“That’s disgusting.” “Not again.” “Does she know how many calories that has?” “I want a bite.” “ “….Mayonnaise shakes!” “How long has she had that in her purse?” “I would like some to put on my hair.” “She’s a monster.” “She’s a psychopath.” “She’s my hero.”  “I should avoid her.”  “I need to talk to her more.” “Is she single?” “Is this a cry for help?” “I shouldn’t have come to class today.”  “I miss mom.” “I don’t miss mom.” “Here comes my breakfast.” “And I thought the putrefying cat would be the grossest thing I saw today.” “She needs to leave Egypt.” “I hope she stays in Egypt.” “Am I that weird?” “She can do this but I can’t smell my toes in public?” “She’s got it all figured out.”

I can certainly agree with the last fictional statement. I do have it all figured out. Next on my hit list is drinking water out of a toothpaste tube.

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Mar 06 2012
18 Comments
Egypt, Humorous

I Am a Meat Flavored Chip

Hello there. I am a meat flavored chip, a food even most animals avoid. I see you’ve come to the shop for a snack, and luckily for you, we have many delicious offerings: tea biscuits, sawdusty wafer crackers, baked goods that smell slightly of garbage, refrigerated Snickers bars, and most importantly, all varieties of MSG laced chips: the Chipsys and Doritos and what have you. Sure we have the ketchup, chili lime, cheese, shrimp, and salt and vinegar flavors, but have you considered trying something slightly more repulsive? What you’re really looking for is me: a meat flavored chip.

Don’t think about it too much, about how this piece of fried vegetable matter has the distinctly smoky taste of leftover oil from a kebab grill or about how the almost fulfilling meaty taste and irresistible crunch leaves you deeply dissatisfied and spiritually drained, or about how you know your tongue will start to feel raw as your taste buds inevitably dull from the cocktail of chemicals that imbue me with my meaty flavor against the will of God.

You know that I’m an abomination, that this kind of taste should not exist on a chip. You know that your entire body should shrink away from me in disgust and recognize me for what I am, something wholly unnatural, a deviation from all that is wholesome. Furthermore, you know how you’ll feel about the whole affair in just 5 minutes, after your wave of hunger has subsided and you’re left tasting the chemical after notes of the artificial kebab flavoring as it bubbles up over the next hour.

But you’re hungry and your mind is not functioning quite right. The part of your brain that would recognize the horror of what you’re about to do is busy watching the food channel and drooling. Nothing can stop you and I’m so close. I’m right here, behind these bags of chips covered in far less carcinogens, the black color of my bag hinting at the evil that lies within, the evil that will soon be within you, creating in your stomach a veritable cesspool of laboratory substances.

Forget everything. Forget how you felt the last time. Forget that I am a meat flavored chip, nature’s scandal, and think of me only as the snack that you need right now. And the next time you want to spend a few hours in a bathroom, you can try out my buddy, the Doritos T-Bone Steak and Curry Collision. Treat yourself. Because you deserve something reprehensible.

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Feb 27 2012
14 Comments
Anecdotes, Two minute read

Secret Cookie in my Pocket

Give me a book and the cookie. Spare me the class.

I didn’t read the book for class, but I did have a secret chocolate chip cookie in my pocket. Whereas the rest of the class intended to mire themselves in the angst of post-modernity, I intended to wait for a little bit and then eat my cookie.

Oh it was going to be delicious. It was by far the best cookie in the classroom, possibly the best in Cairo, and a certain contender for the best cookie in all space and time. Its buttery taste, the fluffy yet chewy texture of the crumb, the chocolateyness of the chocolate chips….yes, bringing this cookie to school was likely the best decision I was going to make all week.

The class begins and my eyes instantly glaze over. I am already far from this place, my mind slowly orbiting around three topics: “I have a cookie in my pocket. How will I make it in San Francisco? I need to do laundry today.”

As if through a window, I see the professor in front of me yammering about something, the other students nodding in agreement. I find myself doing the same, compelled by a primal instinct that forces the human to avoid scolding by pretending to listen.

Group work is vicious, dragging me to back to the classroom to offer my own fabricated insights. This is difficult to do because of the cookie distraction. One day the students will turn on me, pointing their fingers at me and saying in unison, “This one sucks.” But that day is not today. The work ends, and we return to our own worlds that are supposed to revolve around the professor and whatever she’s saying. I go back to thinking about the cookie.

My stomach growls and I know the moment has come.

I remove the cookie from my pocket, its tender body protected from my coat pocket by a thick layer of foil. As I unwrap it gently the foil yields forth its precious burden. The student next to me gasps.

I know what she is thinking. Yes, this is a chocolate chip cookie baked fresh from my kitchen. Yes, it is America itself contained in a bit of flour, butter, and sugar, and it is likely the most valuable thing at the university at this time. It is mine, and I’m going to eat it now, and as the crumbs dissolve on my lips, I too will dissolve away from here and from this classroom where words are being said about the novel I didn’t read, the point of which only the author could understand.

This cookie, however, I understand. Why couldn’t the author write something more like it?

P.S. You should try “The Chewy Recipe” for your cookies, courtesy of dude Alton Brown. They are very delicious and better than homework.

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Feb 22 2012
16 Comments
Fiction, Two minute read

Deconstructed Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

This recipe was taken from an episode of Top Chef: Personal Lives

To make the perfect deconstructed PB&J:

Make sure you are alone. Check the bedrooms, kitchen, closets, basement, staircases, and behind, making sure you are unaccompanied. Lock the doors.

Stalk your way to the kitchen. Be furtive. The more furtive you are, the better the deconstructed sandwich will taste. A furtive sandwich is a tasty sandwich.

Glance around shamefully, then reach into the cabinet and withdraw the half empty jar of peanut butter from its lair. You are not a pessimist, but there’s no denying you’ve already eaten half of the peanut butter. It is a large jar, with 24 servings, a total of 48 tablespoons. You’ve done the math. There is no call for optimism here.

Make sure you are alone.

Quietly, ever so quietly, remove the lid. Quickly check behind you and then grab a knife from the drawer, a butter knife. Slowly close the squeaky drawer, trying to make as little noise as possible. Wince at every creak. A quiet sandwich is a good sandwich.

today, we dine on pb&j alone

With the jar and knife, creep to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Set the peanut butter timer for ten minutes. Crawl into bed and, with the knife, eat the peanut butter, varying your technique slightly from bite to bite. It’s just you, the knife, the peanut butter, and the timer.

When the timer goes off, jump as if something has scared you. Realize it was just the fact you sat by yourself in your room alone eating peanut butter for ten minutes. Push this thought away and then continue making the deconstructed PB&J.

Pick up the jar and knife, cleaned of all traces of peanut butter, and make your way back to the kitchen. The lights in the house should be off, curtains closed except for a crack through which you can see the outside world. Sandwiches in the dark are toothsome sandwiches.

In the kitchen, place the peanut butter back in its dark corner.

Choose your favorite spoon, the one you eat frosting and ice cream with, the one you would take with you should you ever travel again, the spoon you would want your friends to see,  the spoon you would want to look like if you still went out to social events.

Open the mostly empty fridge and remove your only jar of jam, which is almost gone. Open it up and slurp down a few mouthfuls with your spoon. Reassure yourself that you deserve this. Notice how the sweet, cool, smooth texture of the jam contrasts beautifully with the creamy, slightly savory, nutty aftertaste of the peanut butter. Afterwards, notice how you are eating jam out of the jar.

A quiet sandwich is a good sandwich.

Screw the lid on the jam and put it back. After closing the door, glance at the pictures on the fridge. Wonder if you should call your mother.

Eat a slice of bread later on, after waking from your nap.

P.S. Teddie Peanut Butter is the best.

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Feb 02 2012
10 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Three minute read

My Ear Infection: Party on the Inside

bring on the ear infection rock surfing

I have an ear infection. Yeah, I said it. My ear is crawling with infection. Perhaps that’s too much disclosure for the blogosphere. Just because I read the forums on Web MD religiously doesn’t mean I want to discuss everyone’s medical charts, especially my favorite authors on the web.

But now it’s out there. I’ve got an ear infection and it sucks. This is also not a ploy to get people’s pity. I don’t want or need your pity. I’ve already had cookies baked for me against my will and yes, they were inappropriately tasty. You see, I was raised on the plains of Oklahoma, where personal illness is usually treated as a case of sissy-hood. We believe most things can be cured by ignoring the pain and/or rubbing bacon grease onto the affected area. In the case of internal pain, the grease is rubbed onto the lymph nodes so the lymphatic system can carry its healing qualities throughout the rest of the body. It’s a highly developed system.

Unfortunately, bacon grease is hard to come by here in Egypt, so I was unable to pour any into my ear at the beginning of the infection and simply tried to ignore it. The infection proceeded to get increasingly hard to ignore, and I was forced to go to the university clinic, where I was given medicines of dubious names and qualities. I’m now taking a few  pills in a variety of shapes and colors and waiting for everything to go back to normal when I can pretend like this whole “being sick” thing never happened.

I feel like there’s nothing dumber than saying you can’t do something because of an ear infection. To me, it feels equivalent to saying, “Oh, my thumb hurts so I can’t come to your bridal shower,” or “My forehead is bothering me so I won’t be able to make it to the awards banquet,” etc. It’s such a small area of your body, but when it hurts, it hurts in spades. If you have healthy ears, kiss them both right now and be thankful. You could also have someone kiss them for you.

I was laying in bed last night, unable to sleep because of the bright, throbbing pain in my ear. I thought to myself “I am in hell,” as it crackled and sparked, reminding me once again of how awesome my other ear feels. (Again, I don’t want your pity. I’m just trying to use my pathetic example of hardship as blog fodder). Then I realized that I was seeing the pain in my mind’s eye as bright colors and shapes. I think at one point there was a recurring abstractly shaped fish figure that had pink and white stripes and I would see it as I closed my eyes even though I was still awake and wondered  if I would be able to skip school for this.

Now here I am in the morning and I’m not skipping school but I am going to the white desert again. At least I can continue my tradition of being sick before camping trips.

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