Renter's Residue

   As a general rule I don’t watch reality shows.  When I was taking care of an elderly relative, however, she had the Food Channel on a lot.  Have you seen this show called Chopped?  Contestants must make a first rate meal from miscellaneous scraps.

    "Open your baskets, chefs.  You will have 30 minutes to prepare an entree from:  rutabaga, pigs feet, a slice of American cheese and orange gatorade."  I would definitely tune in for  an episode of Chopped where the contestants poison the judges, who tend to be snotty.  "This isn't clarified butter!  It has to be clarified."  You've made yourself clear, Master.  What's the next course?  Scolded potatoes?  Dressed down crab?   Brow-beaten biscuits? 

  

   When did the price of spaghetti sauce go to nine dollars for a 24 ounce jar?  Have you seen these premium sauces?  There’s one called Mom’s, with a picture of a hefty granny on the label.    Then there's the celebrity chef who looks like a porcine stoner—what’s his name?  With the pony tail?  Then there’s the brand with the picture of a young, hirsute Italian woman who looks not unlike Fez from That 70s Show.  What kind of mushrooms are they putting in there?  You can get a decent jar of sauce at ALDI for a buck.

 (The Food Channel could collaborate with the Cartoon Network on an upcoming special, It’s the Grey Poupon, Charlie Brown!)

    One menu item I'll skip is the Jerk Pulled Pork Swords.  Hold the dipping sauce!  Also, avoid the New York Custard-Filled Long Johns and Kozy Shack Pudding.

    I decided long ago that I don’t want any cottage cheese.  I think because the name sounds bad.  Cottage cheese.  Why not just call it bungalow buildup?  Renter’s residue?

   Speaking of cheese, there's a radio ad for a Vermont cheese company's web site that says they have "cheese stories."  Nothing like a good cheese story:  "One night our fraternity president dared us to eat a wheel of cheese the size of a snare drum, and..."  Talk about "Breaking Bad."