Down on the Bayou

Ever see a vertical pillar of ice on a dead-headed rose stem? I have. Two years ago. Portland was hit by a ridiculously obnoxious double ice storm. First, we had a thin layer of ice, followed by a layer of snow, which was quickly sandwiched under a second slightly-thicker layer of ice.

I took a single step onto my driveway and slid on my ass down to the street. We were iced in. There was no way to get to the store. So, the next several days required a high degree of creativity to make meals out of the meager inventory found in the cupboards. It became a game. It was kind of fun.

We now have bigger cupboards, and we haven't seen Ice like that since then, but occasionally we play the "what's in the cupboard" game just for shits and giggles.

Last night was one of those nights. Mrs. G&T was getting a hair cut, so the tot and I were left to fend for the family. I strapped the monkey into her high chair for safety, and placated her with various styles of oat-based cereals. The dog took his station beneath her to catch the cast-offs.

I approached the pantry with confidence, swinging the double doors wide. I scanned the boxes, bags and cans of prefab food stuffs. The box of dry Jambalaya rice caught my eye. I scanned the back of the box for basic directions. "For extra zest, add meat!" read the directions. Meat... Oh yes, there would be meat.

From the freezer came the chicken breast, the hot Italian sausage and the remains of a previously opened package of semi-crappy vegetarian sun dried tomato sausage. The semi-crappy sausage didn't concern me, as I had planned to "zest" things up a bit on my own.

Into the pot went all manner of ingredients far above and beyond anything contemplated by the witless jack off who penned the script on the back of the rice box. To say that I diverged from the recipe would be to say that the Rose Bowl Wednesday night was "interesting."

By the time the wife got home, the house smelled of Cajun spice, garlic, and cheesy biscuits (which were baking in the oven). My mouth watered as the steaming heaps of goodness were ladled into my bowl. Thick chunks of glistening sausage baited my taste buds as I carefully carried my meal to the table.

"Crap." The first bite was a chunk of the crappy veggie-sausage, which had not actually absorbed any of the swirling goodness.

"Fuck!" So was the second bite.

Bit after bit, chunk after chunk, I found that my bowl was filled with nothing but rice and the sad synthetic link nuggets. While the missus appeared to have struck the jackpot with all of the good Italian sausage in her bowl, I dejectedly sorted through mine to at least pick out the edible chicken niblets.

The howler monkey and, by extension, the dog enjoyed the rice. The cheesy biscuits turned out OK. However, I was really quite saddened by the sausage. Oh well… I suppose that's the risk you take when you spin the wheel of pantry roulette.