Variations on a Theme of Kraft Dinner.

  

Ian Cooper

After pounding back a few beers and otherwise coming to the end of another boredcast day, we decided to conduct another culinary experiment.

For whatever reason, call it poverty, call it food-lust, call it lack of imagination or really anything else in the cupboard, we had this hankering or gustatory horniness for Kraft Dinner. I guess maybe we were hungry.

Yes I said that right and no it’s not a mistake.

The first thing you need to understand is that army guys eat this shit all the time and the second thing is that it won’t kill you.

Throw half a WW II mess tin of water on to boil, salt in there to taste. Rip open your typical box of K-rations as you see fit.

So now what you want to do it to chop up a slice of a 37-mm onion, dice a trice of red, white or blue pepper and a couple of standard-issue shrooms don’t hurt as well. Okay, so, as soon as your H2O boils, what you want to do is to chuck all that shit in there and sort of pretend it’s soup for a while, and at this point it starts to smell pretty inspired. Seven minutes is way too long to be honest with you.

Unfortunately, it’s not. Not until you dump a pinch of herbs and spices in there and don’t forget that other box of generic crap dinner. You’ve got a dozen or so in the cupboard and you can never really eat it fast enough. The government’s trying to kill you, they just keep giving you more and more of it.

(Editor's Note: strain the water off in the usual fashion. - ed.)

Right?

What you do is to rip that other box open, take out the cheese powder and throw the rest of that shit away.

I know this is politically incorrect, but just trust me for a minute. What you now have is double-cheese K-rations, and that is really our big breakthrough here.

Also, salt to taste and adding a shit-load of black pepper is helpful as well.

I ate the whole friggin’ thing, ladies and gentlemen.

That is the greatest testimonial of all.

END

On Becoming Something of a Con-Man.

Ian Cooper

Okay, so here is our soup of the day. In this case, it’s a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, (painted by Andy’s War-hole as I recall). Only we’ve added chopped onion, three good sized white or button mushrooms, and of course our usual dose of herbs and spices including Mrs. Dash as well as salt and pepper.

Also, we’re cooking some frozen biscuits, i.e. the dough was frozen. Just to see what the hell happens, we greased up a pan and somehow managed to separate out the individual biscuits. 

So what’s going on now is we’ve got the frozen dough-nuggets in the oven.

That’s one of the great things about being drunk half the time. We don’t give a shit what we eat as long as it tastes good or even just unusual, (being bored as hell much of the time) and assuming that it don’t kill us.

Right?

But in something that’s really weird, lately people have been showing up at our door and dropping off food and stuff.

It’s almost as good as the fuckers buying a book and shit like that. It doesn’t help our rankings much, but since the food so far ranges from home-made ice cream, to bowls of cherries—oh, how many analogies spun through my mind as I ate them things—especially with that bright red and yet dark red juice spilling down my fingers and dripping on my sink and counter, ah, ah; a bag of mini-doughnuts and most recently, a dozen muffins on the brink of being condemned by the health department but if I had baggies or plastic wrap I could still freeze them. They probably won’t kill me, right? 

So I don’t know if that really qualifies as a success or not, but the reader will have to admit I’m becoming something of a scrounger and may show some promise at getting otherwise (and somewhat) under-appreciated women of all ages to look after me.

Yes, even me. Why not, they look after all kinds of scruffy old men.

To clarify.

I don’t appreciate them all that much either.

I’m trying to get some work done here, can’t you see that…???

So on our bucket list we will provisionally cross off becoming a con-man.

I don’t know how many dreams one man can achieve in a single lifetime, but we are well on the way to the Guinness Book of World Records.

Anyway, that’s how it seems to us, but comments are always welcome.

END

A Cheap and Alternative Chicken Coating Mix. + SECOND BONUS RECIPE.

Meat + heat = eat.

Okay, this is my recipe for some kind of cheap and alternative chicken coating mix.

What you want to do is put a half a cup of flour in a bowl. This will do about six chicken legs, if you’re doing a hundred, adjust the recipe accordingly.

We add salt, black pepper, Mrs. Dash, paprika, celery salt, and sage to the mix and whip that around with a fork for a while.

After that, we roll the chicken around in there for a while. Fresh chicken straight from Walmart is best, although we usually cook half the dead chicken legs (live ones are no good as they keep moving around and shaking the coating mix off), and then freeze the other half.

You might want to wash everything down before and after as salmonella is a bitch. Leave it in the oven until it really starts to stink like cooked chicken. I use a pan. I know I’ve said that before, and I’ll say it again, but it really applies to all foods, uh, bearing in mind that they should all smell differently, but really stink when the juices flow and the internal temps are rising.

Right?

Right.

It’s not that hard, ladies and gentlemen.

Meat plus heat equals eat.

A simple equation.

To go along with that, we microwave a couple of potatoes in the skin and reheat some cold green beans for a minute or so and voila!

You’ve got a half-decent meal that ain’t going to kill you and it smells fantastic out in the hallway just in case Social Services picks now of all times to do a building sweep based on socio-economic circumstances and psycho-sexual profiling….the point is that you can’t run and still maintain your benefits. And let’s be honest, you really should be in some kind of institution.

My other point is that the benefits are adjusted according to circumstance, so you want to try and stay out of institutions and the like. You have the right to privacy and I really can’t (or shouldn’t) comment on your circumstances just in case you sign over your birthright to me and people start to ask questions.

Also its food. Look. If you don’t eat you don’t shit—and if you don’t shit, you die.

It’s just that simple, ladies and gentlemen. It’s also pretty good advice even though I’m not a doctor although I pretend to be one on the internet(s) sometimes including dating sites of a half a dozen putative orientations but don’t worry it’s not real and I really am just a twit.

Right?

Right.

Okay.

Now, in our second, bonus recipe, we have put some green beans and a slice of onion, chopped, into a can of Campbell\s vegetable soup. We also took a slice of tomato including the navel, (which is very important for the symbolism) and threw that in there too. This is really good with some cold chipped or flaked ham, depending what tribe lives in your area. I squirt a shit-load of mustard on there and you really got something.

Other than that, I guess you’re on your own.

But don’t blame me if you fuckin’ starve to death.

END