Too Much 2-Buch Chuck, a Mrs. Dash Dig, and a Human Teething Rag

Welcome back to The Cooking Show In My Head. I’m your cooking toast … your coasting took … your toasted cook—whoa, did I say that? Stupid. Not a PBS special, which one day I host to hope. Hope to toast. Hope to host!

My goodness. I don’t know if Chuck’s charging enough with that two bucks, youknowwhadd-imean? Not that I myself have imbibed in the TBC. Not too much, anyway. Oh sure, I could have dranken … drunk? …. drinked? … downed a bunch more than I even did during our commercial break. And I probably should have, too, now that ol’ Chuck is the biggest sponsor of my show. Mrs. Dash. She sure dashed my hopes, I’ll tell you that. Like it would have killed her to let me wear a stupid apron with her stupid name on it. An apron! It’s not like I asked to be seen tangoing with her. But no. My reputation was apparently just too much for the illustrious Dash family to endure. Now if my last name was Semicolon, I’m sure ….

You know what? Lesh just drop it. The point is, I didn’t drink too much. And the reason is because, as every good chef knows, no one knows what the nose can’t know when the nose can’t feel the toes. My dear ol’ grandma used to say that all the time. Now there was a drunk. Unbelievable. You couldn’t smoke around that woman, for fear she’d detonate. Pure alcohol. Mothers used to bring their teething babies around just so they could gnaw on the woman. It was better than a whiskey-soaked rag, and didn’t hurt grandma any. She liked it. Sometimes there’d be fourteen, fifteen babies attached to her arms, her feet, her back, gumming away. It was quite the sight. It’s one I hope to forget before I die, I can tell you that.

Anyway, back to our recipe. What was I making again? Oh, right: Cheesy Deliciousness. Now where was I with that? Oh—well, here are the ingredients, I see, right here on the counter. I’m so good at bringing everything out early like that. So the first thing we’ve gotta do is boil some water. Oh, no. I hate boiling water. It takes forever, donsha think? You’d think you could just buy water that’s boiling, wouldn’t you? You can buy cold water. You can buy bubbled water. You can buy water infused with rock star horomones. Why can’t you buy boiling water? You’d think with today’s modern packaging technologies, you should be able to buy water that’s either boiling, or seriously pre-boiling, so that all you had to do ….

Well, forget it. They don’t have that, so there’s no use wishing for it.

You know what? I got sleepy. Why don’t we call this a day, and come back and finish this tomorrow? I think that’d be better. Tonight for dinner we’ll have Cornflakes with raisins. I love Corn Flakes with raisins, don’t you? First it’s so deliciously crunchy, and then it’s so sublimely … waddy. It’s really the perfect food. Especially if, instead of milk, you pour over it ….

Hey! I hear my wife driving up from after work! Sweet! Well, this is Chef John, done pretending that he’s drunk. Oh, sure it was fun—but it’s such an easy laugh. Does anyone remember Foster Brooks, the great comic drunk? That kind of humor has really gone by the wayside. And it’s probably best. Still. Anyway, here’s wishing you and yours a wonderful evening. G’night!

Here’s a YouTube clip of Foster Brooks doing his thing. Man. Talk about no longer suitable for prime-time…
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHrLwUITMsk]

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