December 07, 2004
Homely
My opponent has gotten a lot of mileage this year out of the apparent homeliness of my home-cooked meals. Apparent homeliness, I say, because I'm not at all convinced they look particularly unappetizing. One also might point out that the look of a meal doesn't matter as much as its taste. But to listen to Guy's rants about my home cooking, you'd think I was warming up dried dog shit.
First, there was my carne molida meal back in February. "You made that yourself? It's very pretty. And you were the one resisting the vomit rule." Contextually speaking, I doubt he was serious about the pretty part.
Sensing Guy's obsession with the visual aesthetic of a meal, I soon challenged him to consider the refreshingly spartan look of a brown steak in brown gravy. In so doing, I noted my pity for the sightless, who couldn't appreciate the stark monochromatic newness of the dish in question. His reply evidenced a clear lack of tolerance for my perspective: "Yeah, the poor blind, who can't see what slop looks like. Like that's the reason why it sucks to be blind."
When I tried melting blue cheese on a steak for the first time in my life, I was rewarded by a fantastic taste sensation. Wanting to share this new joy with my dear friend, I was shockingly rebuffed: "I remember this particular substance very well, in fact when I started hocking it up into the shower every morning, that was when I knew I should quit."
As I logged more home-cooked meals, his criticisms mounted, each more furious, and more scurrilous, than the last:
"I don't think wood counted as beef."
"That is absolutely revolting. Seriously, brother, if you're lowered to such a poor standard of living by this contest, maybe it's better we call the thing off."
"Eric, please. It's not about quantity, it's about quality. Well, ok, so it is actually about quantity, but you don't have to suffer to make it happen. Well, ok, maybe you do have to suffer to make it happen, but I don't."
"Please... do we have to resort to toilette photography so early in the year? I had expected this, but no sooner than october."
"You smurf-herpie. That looks revolting. Your cow would come to haunt you if it knew that it would end up like this."
"Are you sure that's even beef?"
Et cetera.
I thought I had gotten used to my opponent's attacks by now. They arrive so often, and so predictably, that I had expected them to eventually fade into the background like white noise. However, after recently reaching the perfect balance of homely and tasty with this chicken-fried steak in gravy, I was surprised by my actual hesitation in photographing it. I guess I do care what Guy thinks. And, I have to admit, this wasn't the best-looking meal I've ever made.
So, what the hell, I threw in some peas. Happy now?
First of all: the peas definitely spark up the plate a little bit. They add a nice touch of green, and if they weren't there, I'd be tempted to think that you had already consumed what was originally in the space which the peas now occupy, and had then vomited whatever that was onto the horribly mangled piece of meat which lay there like a beaten animal, waiting for someone to come along and vomit onto it.
But seriously. I need a recipe. Please share. I need it, because I'm not sure that Better Homes and Gardens has this one yet, and it belongs in their collection. You might also consider forwarding it to rotten.com for their atrocities section.
How could you? At this point in the game, when the result is ostensibly predetermined, I find it incredible that you should still feel the need to punish yourself like this. Chin up, man. You can still preserve some dignity if you try.
But not like this.
This just makes me feel sad.
Posted by: guy at December 8, 2004 12:16 AM