Just kids in the kitchen...
So I have had a couple of days in a row where I feel like a grown-up. Which is strange because I am a grown-up, sort of. But on Sunday I was making quiche (or omelet pie, if you are a "real man") and then I made some meatballs in a tomato sauce.
I am going to stop for a second and give a shout out to one of my best friends, Tony. Tony was a very dear friend to me when I was at a very strange time in my life. I had just moved from New Mexico to Florida to New York in the span of a year and I was a pretty unhappy miserable little fucker. Tony and his family, on Christmas Eve, invited me to go to their house in Staten Island and celebrate with them. At the time I had known him for oh... I don't know three months maybe. Anyway, his family was so warm and welcoming and one of the things that I remember about his family in particular was his father, Vinny, who made these meatballs. I almost think that they should be capitalized, Meatballs. Like you would capitalize Paris. Vinny made these meatballs and it was like eating something that you had millions of times, but for the first time you had finally had it prepared correctly. I just don't even know how to characterize the experience. Other worldly. The fact that I can't eat other meatballs without thinking of Vinny and his Meatballs says something to me. Vinny passed away about a year ago and I think I will always hold a special place in my heart for him and his whole family, and not just for the Meatballs, but for the love they showed a total stranger. So, Tony, my thoughts are with you and your family always. Thank you.
On to less maudlin things. While I was cooking this weekend I was thinking about something odd. Pizza Hut. Not for their pizza either. When I was in college I used to like to steal things from places that I didn't think would miss them. Chain restaurants, supermarkets, clothing stores. Pizza Hut had two things that were awesome. One was the big red cup that you got when you ordered a soda. I still have one. Love it. But the one that I love the best was the pizza distribution utensil, it was like a pie cutter but with out an edge and like a spatula but without being particularly wide. It was used to get the deep dish pizza out of the scalding hot little dish in which it came. Now when I took it -- I am fairly certain I was just being a punk but at the time I probably thought I was sticking it to the man -- I thought this is great, but I didn't even know the half of it. I use that fucking thing all the time. If I am cooking, I want it. I can't explain it at all. It is just a perfect utensil. Great for scrambling eggs, flipping omelets, sauteeing, frying, cutting pie (or pizza), I literally haven't been able to stump it for uses. If this thing was a band and we were playing "stumpt the band" it would know everything from Rachmaninoff to The Rembrandts. It is amazing. And I suppose I wanted to let the Pizza Hut in Byrum, CT know that I have the spatulini (that is what I am going to call it from now on) and that I love it and that it is the only utensil in my kitchen that hasn't been voted off the island at this point.
On to a totally other subject. The feeling of being overwhelmed. Christ do I have it. I am not sure how I am ever going to catch up at work and the worst part is that there is a show starting up and from the point it starts I am working straight through to June. Which is a long-ass time from now. I am just nervous that things are going to go really really bad and I don't even really know why, just filled with fear I guess.
Here is the blog o' the day.
mummyDear.
Why? Read it and tell me isn't adorable. I especially like the post about the strawberry toothpaste.
I am going to stop for a second and give a shout out to one of my best friends, Tony. Tony was a very dear friend to me when I was at a very strange time in my life. I had just moved from New Mexico to Florida to New York in the span of a year and I was a pretty unhappy miserable little fucker. Tony and his family, on Christmas Eve, invited me to go to their house in Staten Island and celebrate with them. At the time I had known him for oh... I don't know three months maybe. Anyway, his family was so warm and welcoming and one of the things that I remember about his family in particular was his father, Vinny, who made these meatballs. I almost think that they should be capitalized, Meatballs. Like you would capitalize Paris. Vinny made these meatballs and it was like eating something that you had millions of times, but for the first time you had finally had it prepared correctly. I just don't even know how to characterize the experience. Other worldly. The fact that I can't eat other meatballs without thinking of Vinny and his Meatballs says something to me. Vinny passed away about a year ago and I think I will always hold a special place in my heart for him and his whole family, and not just for the Meatballs, but for the love they showed a total stranger. So, Tony, my thoughts are with you and your family always. Thank you.
On to less maudlin things. While I was cooking this weekend I was thinking about something odd. Pizza Hut. Not for their pizza either. When I was in college I used to like to steal things from places that I didn't think would miss them. Chain restaurants, supermarkets, clothing stores. Pizza Hut had two things that were awesome. One was the big red cup that you got when you ordered a soda. I still have one. Love it. But the one that I love the best was the pizza distribution utensil, it was like a pie cutter but with out an edge and like a spatula but without being particularly wide. It was used to get the deep dish pizza out of the scalding hot little dish in which it came. Now when I took it -- I am fairly certain I was just being a punk but at the time I probably thought I was sticking it to the man -- I thought this is great, but I didn't even know the half of it. I use that fucking thing all the time. If I am cooking, I want it. I can't explain it at all. It is just a perfect utensil. Great for scrambling eggs, flipping omelets, sauteeing, frying, cutting pie (or pizza), I literally haven't been able to stump it for uses. If this thing was a band and we were playing "stumpt the band" it would know everything from Rachmaninoff to The Rembrandts. It is amazing. And I suppose I wanted to let the Pizza Hut in Byrum, CT know that I have the spatulini (that is what I am going to call it from now on) and that I love it and that it is the only utensil in my kitchen that hasn't been voted off the island at this point.
On to a totally other subject. The feeling of being overwhelmed. Christ do I have it. I am not sure how I am ever going to catch up at work and the worst part is that there is a show starting up and from the point it starts I am working straight through to June. Which is a long-ass time from now. I am just nervous that things are going to go really really bad and I don't even really know why, just filled with fear I guess.
Here is the blog o' the day.
mummyDear.
Why? Read it and tell me isn't adorable. I especially like the post about the strawberry toothpaste.
posted by V. at 10:14 PM
1 Comments:
I havemet other people who have stolen that same utensil and found it to be equally as awesome. It may be the best thing Pizza Hut offers this great nation.
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