Friday Night Repast

East meets West this evening in the G's household. 5 pee em saw the smiling exit of Mrs. which left RTP Jr. and I to fend for ourselves in the culinary world. 

After a digging episode in the garden which can only be described as 'brown', we cleaned up and began the inventory of available edibles in the kitchen. Foregoing matronal advice to 'please eat some of the leftovers', we narrowed our choices down to three: leftovers, re-grilled leftovers, and carb loading for tomorrow's 9 miler. It's a sure bet whenever taters are involved and from there we set forth.

The food network dot commies suggest baking in the oven for almost two hours at a temperature that would cause the sun to flinch. Out of the question! Smiling like a mongoloid, I vaguely remembered a time or two during my undergrad days when we would prepare potatoes in our dorm room coffee pot, and once or twice in the RA's microwave oven. Hell, we have a microwave oven right there, and it even has a potato button. Jackpot! "Say you're once..... twice...... three tiiiiiiiiiiimes a potato, and I loooooooove you!" If one spud is good, three will be better. So, fork poke all three and into the microparticulator. Potato button once --not done. Two times --not done. Three times..... tasty fish!!

Now to split, top, and present. And here is where I honestly made an effort to use leftovers, but not the stew she had in mind. What goes good on a nightshade tuber? About anything it turns out. A whack of butter each, a generous pinch of sodium chloride each, and what have we here? Prepared horseradish... hmmmm sounds spicy, so take it easy with amounts---oops. Now here is something interesting hiding behind the ketchup bottles! Mango chutney. Looks like jelly with stuff in it and not a lot left in the jar. Damn the torpedos --all of it!!!! I'm eating leftovers!!! A little dancing in the kitchen with my boy. What kind of funky monkey cocaine is this here in the spice rack?? Garam Marsala?? WTF???!??? WTF indeed.. on it goes, and it comes out of the jar faster than I thought it would. Now a little knife smearing and a blog photo op. And the moment you have been waiting for...

It was .... different. Not bad, a little harsh on the tummy here about 15 minutes later which may also be caused by the forced switch of TV programming. HJG just has to watch that little bald-headed Canadian ef'er named Caillou. Watch yourselves parents to be. This program will make you want to claw your eyes out and stuff them into your earholes. 

The sweetness in the chutney harmonized well with the horseradish bite, and was together a nice counterpoint to the Indian spice. The underlying creamy butter made a valiant attempt to pacify the battlefield, but, severely out-gunned, surrendered before the meal was halfway consumed. My developing gastro-distress brings to mind the punchline to an apropos old joke: "C'mon ice cream!!"

Actually, I think it's time now for a little Father Brioschi. Then some ice cream. Vanilla in a bowl with a spoon. Nighty night!

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