by Anna Collins
Recently, I was in the grocery store getting supplies and as I shopped,
it occurred to me, there are some things I never ever buy. I'm sure
there are items you never buy either, because groceries are a very
personal and individual thing. But that doesn't prevent me from questioning
certain items.
Like for instance, tofu. Yes, I know it's made from that delectable
soy and it's supposed to be good for you and all that crap, but it
looks like a huge rubber eraser sitting in murky water. Not clear
water, but murky, cloudy, can't-see-to-the-bottom-of-it water. Sorry
- if my food is camouflaged by swamp water - I ain't eatin' it. Give
it to some guy from "Deliverance."
And who eats those smoked oysters from a tin? Packed in oil, no less.
Mmm. Because slimy raw oysters aren't appetizing enough, why not smoke
'em so they turn brown and then make 'em good 'n' oily. I can't even
imagine how those taste. I'd have to be forced to smoke Bob Marley-grade
ganja and appear on an episode of "Survivor" before I could
even come close to having an appetite to munch on that delectable
treat.
But not all unusual food is gross or promises to taste bad. Like bologna.
No one really knows for sure what's in it - but it's dee-lish. I like
the kind that comes in a big meat log so you can saw off the pieces
to any thickness you like. And have you ever had fried bologna? Sweet
merciful mother - now we're talking. It was my good friend, Ramona
Jean Parker, from the great state of West Virginia, who turned me
on to it. She said fried bologna is the West Virginia filet mignon
- only on white bread with yellow mustard. Ooo, baby, that's gooood.
Hark! Do I hear Eminem? Two trailer park girls go 'round the outside,
'round the outside.
And while we're on the meat train, how about Vienna sausages? As if
they're from Vienna and as if they're sausages. I guarantee you, if
you go to Vienna no one has ever heard of them. Maybe Vienna, Tenn.
They are - I don't know what they are, but they look like - I'm not
even going there either - you know what they look like. Even dogs
have been known to turn up their noses at Vienna sausages - and they
sniff each other's butts.
Moving on to the Underwood Deviled Ham. Why deviled? 'Cause it tastes
like Satan made it. It comes in a small aluminum can wrapped in paper,
giving it an illusion of what? Class? First of all, if you're eating
anything straight out of an aluminum can - the class thing is pretty
much out the window. And there's a picture of the devil dancing on
it. You don't have to be Captain McObvious to figure out that's not
going to be a good thing.
Here's my all time favorite - anything by Chef Boyardee. More like
Chef Boy-are-you-kidding-me? You get the feeling this guy got low
marks in culinary school? If you're serving overcooked macaroni and
covering it with a watery, pinkish sweet sauce - you are not a chef,
my friend. You are one of the ladies that makes the food for the school
cafeteria.
I can picture Boyardee in cooking class, hunkered over a pot of tomato
sauce stirring mounds of sugar into it with a big wooden spoon, while
the rest of the chefs make fun of him. Meanwhile, he keeps stirring
and muttering in an Italian accent, "Da sugah, da sugah! I must
add da sugah! Da kids will be addicted! Some a day - I'm a gonna be
rich!" He was right.
Here's another weird item. How about
yogurt with "active cultures?" Active cultures in yogurt
- that's the latest thing. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
What do the yogurts all get together and jog to the museum to see
the new Manet exhibit? If I want "active culture," I'll
watch wrestling.
Pardon me now while I eat one of those super delicious, supermarket
rotisserie chickens because I'm too lazy to cook. I don't know how
they make them or what's in 'em - but they sure do taste good to me.
And after all, in the end, isn't that all that matters anyway?
And that's the view from this broad.
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