18 November 2008

5 go fish

eF cooks these amazing meals. pastas with fancy french names and homemade bbq sauce and cole slaw. i listen to the nightly recitation, enraptured by this victual porn. the memory of devouring leftover canned peas from a recycled butter tub fills me with intense shame.

girls living alone in the city do not eat well. or at least this one doesn't. i loathe cooking for myself. cupcakes, cookies, pancakes, and pies, yes. i am baking's biggest fan. and fruits and vegetables, big yay. but meals featuring any variety of protein or sauce, no.

i rationalize that i would be more gung-ho to gormandize if there were a dining room in my life. or a table. or kitchen knives. for now, i'm lucky to be in possession of plates and pasta-roni.

but there comes a time when you not only have to be a grown-up, you have to eat like one too. this point arrived last monday as i sat curled up on the couch eating a dinner comprised of cheerios and wine.

after the intial bout of "oh my god, i am bridget jones" horror, i turned to the obvious direction that anyone would turn- fish.

i hate fish. the reality that one's food was once living and had blood vessels and hair is an unnecessary vulgarity to be avoided at all costs and there is no animal more determined in its insistence to remind you it was once not dead. look at the shape of a standard fillet. it appears prepared to resurrect and return to the sea. to say nothing of the lingering, unsloughed scales.

but i'm a big girl. i can overcome aesthetic discomforts.

it's the notion i am eating ariel that i cannot escape.


taramoon333 said...

Cooking for a single is hard. There are always too many leftovers, you can never get the portions right and it's boring.

I still don't know how fish came into the equation. Have a baked potatoe instead.

oline said...

an article on how women should eat fish twice a week ran in the NYT the day after the wine and cheerios incident. hence, the fish.

Les Savy Ferd said...

mer-MAN! sorry. I suppose technically, *technically* you could batter and fry Ariel's lower half, squeeze a lemon on the resulting deliciousness and viola! dinner.

But what would you do with the rest of her?

I vote for replacing her lost tail with a platform on tank-treads. Maybe something that can shoot surface to air missiles or has a flame thrower or something neat like that.

Sometimes lunch as late twenty-something is EXACTLY like lunch as a 12 year-old boy.

/makes explosion noises
//follows that with machine gun fire.

Les Savy Ferd said...

once again my youthful exuberance has silenced everyone.

oline said...

no, no. i think your comment on late twenty-something lunch being EXACTLY like 12-year-old boy lunch was so apt, we were silenced in awe.