Food Stuffs

Thanks to Silvio, I knew exactly how to handle a request at work this week. I needed to provide shortbread for someones strawberries and whipped cream. (That isn't a euphemism... I mean it literally.) JFS was sending off 8-year veteran Jen Mohr-Morse and hosting a Strawberry Shortcake party in her honor. Eric and Silvio had served us the best version of this dessert I've ever had last weekend, so I was inspired to follow their lead by using buttermilk biscuits instead of shortcake.

So I had to whip up some fluffy buttermilk biscuits Tuesday night. Naturally I procrastinated... first playing softball until 9pm, and then I drank 3 or 4 beers before heading to the kitchen. I've decided that the best way to prepare for any daunting task is to engage in moderate to heavy drinking before hand. That's how I got my first girlfriend, and how I passed my driving test, so I'm sticking with it.

The biscuits (although I forgot to purchase basic supplies and had to use milk+vinegar instead of buttermilk) turned out great... or so I'm told. I wound up just dropping off my contribution and leaving. I had to skip the party and the dessert-gobbling on account of a dentist appointment.

I sat in the chair contemplating the enormity of the difference between sitting in a room filled with various versions of strawberry shortcake and absolutely no compunction about trying them all... and sitting with my mouth stretched open while someone rammed metal spikes into my gums for about an hour. It was like heaven and hell were both there in front of me, and inexplicably, I chose hell.

But that isn't what I wanted to write about. All I really wanted to say is that on the walk back up the hill from the medical/dental building I saw an odd poster. It featured a graphic of anthropomorphized food: a masculine, hungry-looking hamburger chasing a feminine, scared-looking hotdog. My first thought was, "Why do we always have to reinforce this stereotype of males being scary predators and females are our victims?" But then I looked at it a bit more and realized: Who the hell makes a hotdog into a woman? That's got to be the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Is there any food more likely to be masculine than a hotdog? Nothing that I can think of. He could have just as easily used a taco or a slice of pizza.