31 August, 2011
Pancetta
Okay, stay with me here.
Say, long ago, you knew this sentient saucepan.
And for a while you had the pleasure of cooking with it. In fact, you found that in doing so it handled really well - better than a lot of your previous, non-sentient saucepans ever had before. During that time you had some great conversations with this saucepan, all the while creating some really bad ass dishes including this jam which you never bothered attempting before because you just assumed you couldn't do it in the first place. Besides, how often do you use jam? Well it turns out pretty darn often once you've achieved the I Just Made Some Goddamn Jam merit badge of cooking with your new friend. And on top of that, jam is delicious. But I digress.
Even though you're both pretty proud of your jam and all those other concoctions, you and the saucepan soon lose track of one another. Nobody's fault, just that the pan had some pre-existing plans at a French cooking school and you forgot where your favorite apron had gone one day and never went any further than that because that thing had perfect sized pockets and you simply trailed off afterwards as you do when you can't complete Step One of any project you're working on. These things happen.
So a while later you and that cognizant saucepan cross paths again. You catch up, learning of its escapades riding on the chunnel, prospecting for gold, its brief stint in being a hat for some child, cooking with Emeril, etc. In turn you share your own experiences - about your new talents in voice-throwing, how you wound up with that pair of wooden toes or that one time you cooked with Emeril, etc. All the while you start remembering how great it is to be interacting with this oxymoronically unique talking saucepan.
However, you tell yourself it's entirely possible that the time for really good jam has come and gone, no matter how great you think it'd be to try again. You figure your best bet is to simply let your old Metallic Friend with Teeth know how much you admire it, but you're going to forgo cooking as it's probably not in the cards anymore or just simply not the right time. This, because you assume it'd let you know otherwise.
Now how dumb are you for not simply asking your old conscious saucepal if it'd be up for cooking again in the future? I'm guessing pretty damn dumb.
I mean come on - it's a talking pan.
Say, long ago, you knew this sentient saucepan.
And for a while you had the pleasure of cooking with it. In fact, you found that in doing so it handled really well - better than a lot of your previous, non-sentient saucepans ever had before. During that time you had some great conversations with this saucepan, all the while creating some really bad ass dishes including this jam which you never bothered attempting before because you just assumed you couldn't do it in the first place. Besides, how often do you use jam? Well it turns out pretty darn often once you've achieved the I Just Made Some Goddamn Jam merit badge of cooking with your new friend. And on top of that, jam is delicious. But I digress.
Even though you're both pretty proud of your jam and all those other concoctions, you and the saucepan soon lose track of one another. Nobody's fault, just that the pan had some pre-existing plans at a French cooking school and you forgot where your favorite apron had gone one day and never went any further than that because that thing had perfect sized pockets and you simply trailed off afterwards as you do when you can't complete Step One of any project you're working on. These things happen.
So a while later you and that cognizant saucepan cross paths again. You catch up, learning of its escapades riding on the chunnel, prospecting for gold, its brief stint in being a hat for some child, cooking with Emeril, etc. In turn you share your own experiences - about your new talents in voice-throwing, how you wound up with that pair of wooden toes or that one time you cooked with Emeril, etc. All the while you start remembering how great it is to be interacting with this oxymoronically unique talking saucepan.
However, you tell yourself it's entirely possible that the time for really good jam has come and gone, no matter how great you think it'd be to try again. You figure your best bet is to simply let your old Metallic Friend with Teeth know how much you admire it, but you're going to forgo cooking as it's probably not in the cards anymore or just simply not the right time. This, because you assume it'd let you know otherwise.
Now how dumb are you for not simply asking your old conscious saucepal if it'd be up for cooking again in the future? I'm guessing pretty damn dumb.
I mean come on - it's a talking pan.
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