Just Add Water

With a talkative two-year-old tugging at my leg, I attempted to throw together a quick dinner for the family. A simple Jambalaya simmered in the pot, glistening with sausage and bespeckled with shredded peppers.

The monkey mugged for a cracker. The sad-faced dog hovered patiently in the corner waiting for the first wayward scraps to strike the floor. My mind raced for a second course. A main course, in my mind, always requires a side dish. If for no other reason, something to sop with...

biscuits.

No, no Bisquick left in the cupboard. um... um... ummmm...

Cornbread.

Yes! A can of Marie Callender Cornbread Mix peeked out from behind the rows and rows of Mandarin Orange cans. "Add Water!" It read in bright bold letters on the front. Simple instructions for a simple meal.

Pan well-greased, I folded-in the pale yellow batter, and slid it into the pre-heated oven. A half hour later, the golden corn pillow came out, steaming and smooth, bearing fine contrast to the chunky spice-colored Creole rice pot.

Wine? No, beer. Full Sail Amber, bitter with heavy Oregon hops to smooth out the cayenne. Golden Irish butter melted into the yellowy grainy cornbread. I raised the sweet square to my mouth. And that is where I detected the first sign of trouble.

It smelled... Like...uh... what? what? Oh yah, FISH!!

Unfortunately, it was too late. The taste buds detected the foulness before the nose could. Now, you and I both know that FISH is not an ingredient to cornbread. Nevertheless, it smelled and tasted like sea food. I went back to the mixing bowl and sniffed. Yes, definitely fish.

And, I don't mean a nice delicious bass. No, I mean FISH, like the deck of a fishing boat at rest under the July sun. It made my mouth taste like fear. I welcomed the thought of vomit, which would at least taste a little better.

Hunger compelled me to cleanse my gullet with more beer. Then, after opening a third, I finally sat down and finished the Jambalaya, which, all things considered, turned out pretty well.