Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Let’s Call This Whole Thing Off: You Say Tomato, I Say Ripe Ovary of A Plant of The Nightshade Family

Salt. / Hand-harvested dry sea minerals.

Baked Chicken. / Heirloom Saipan jungle fowl in an imu or Hawaiian hot stone oven that I dug out back, naked, with a conch, in accordance with ancient Polynesian tradition.

Eggplant Parmesan. / Totally deriviative, The Italians do an “aubergine fritti” that comes closeish… first they harvest the aubergine crop according to biodynamic principles and then very thinly slice the aubergine with a mezzaluna (it takes years of discipleship to learn how to handle the mezzaluna) and --

Can’t we just eat? / Sure, give me at least ten minutes to identify all the ingredients in this broth. I detect star anise.

Pass the sliced tomatoes, please. / You mean the ripe ovaries of a plant of the nightshade family?

I did not. / But it's true, all fruit is an ovary.

Oh god. / Prude.

You're an insufferable snob. / You're a palate-less bore.

Cultured, pasture-fed asshole. / Queen fucking Corn.


  1. Oh my! Too too funny! But you left out the "WAIT! I must take a picture of it before you can even begin to think about enjoying it! Wait, come back!"

  2. I like to call carrot sticks lardoons. Sounds more fantastic.