He placed a bowl before me. I poked my fork into a mushroom chunk. Pushed aside a wet green leaf.
Adam: Okay?
Me: Sure. (scooping ground meat and mystery bean into mouth) Yeah. (looking around for salt) What's in this chili anyways? (spotting a small saucer with tiny white grains; pinching and tossing some into bowl)
Adam: Bell pepper, spinach, garlic...
Me: Spinach? (tossing another pinch)
Adam: Yes. And a boyjohn cube.
Me: A what? (tossing another pinch)
Adam: A boyjohn cube.
Me: ???
Adam: You know. A little square of chicken stock.
Me: Oh, bouillion!
Adam: Exactly. Boyjohn. And I browned the meat with the onion first.
Me: Aha. (grabbing pepper bottle, shaking it over bowl)
Adam: Did pepper come out?
Me: Sure.
Adam: No it didn't. You need to twist it.
Me: Oh. (grinding the bottle) But, Adam? Isn't chili supposed to be red? (another pinch of white grains)
Adam: ACK!
Me: What?
Adam: That's sugar.
Me: No it's not.
Adam: Yes. It is.
Me: Oh. My. God. I never eat sugar. (staring at saucer) I was wondering why it wasn't tasting any better —
Adam: !!!
Me: Not that it's bad — I mean, who am I to complain? You cooked it. I did nothing. Still, aren't there usually tomatoes?
Adam: Tomatoes?
Me: Yes.
Adam: Ohhhhh.
Me: They make the base. And it's supposed to stew for hours.
Adam: Not ten minutes.
Me: I think. Not that I ever cooked a chili. But definitely RED.
Adam: That's what makes it a chili?
Me: I think.
Adam: Tomatoes.
Me: Yes.
Adam: And sugar.
Me: (blushing) Uh...no.
Adam: Well.
Me: Thanks, though, for cooking. (translation: "jesus I need some salt for this psycho UK chili")
Adam: Sure. (translation: "never again you mad mad mad american girl")
Me: Really. (translation: "hey at least we use friggin' tomatoes where I come from")
Adam: Right. (translation: "if you knew how to cook, that is")
Me: Seconds? (translation: "what's the point of cooking if you can't even say bouillion")
Adam: I'm good. (translation: "last time I checked, English started in Britain, not the other way around")
Me: Me too. (translation: "oh shut it you royalist scum")
Adam: Okay. (translation: "get thee gone thee slave-owning-indian-killing-puritan freak")
Me: Mmm. (translation: "need I bring up India? Ireland? The Falklands?")
Adam: What did you do today? (translation: "Vietnam? Abu Graib? Guantanamo?")
Me: Language school. (translation: "this could go on forever")
Adam: Of course. (translation: "let's stop now before you drive your blog readers insane")
Me: Went to St. Oberholz. (translation: "fine. but next time...")
Adam: Right. (translation: "...tomatoes")
Me: You?
The End
What a great way to start my day! I'm positive this was much more fun to digest than Adam's version of "chili."
Posted by: Posemary | September 18, 2007 at 04:44 AM
Poor Adam. It really wasn't that bad. :-) But how I miss a Metro salad! I would give anything for an avocado, and chicken that's grilled ("fried" and "breaded" being the two primary culinary concepts here). I miss you much. Thank you for reading. Love love love L
Posted by: Lilan | September 18, 2007 at 04:51 AM