While paying $11.32 cents for about three gallons of fuel at the Handy Pantry between “work” on the edge of the world and the airport where I’m setting up an aviation museum, I encounter a display of Corn?Nuts offering “two for one” with the coupon displayed there. This is not?my first encounter with Corn Nuts since 1967, but my first encounters had pretty much sated my yen for them until last week. So I bought two bags, and in the course of munching them at “work” for lunch the next two or three days, decided I’d be good for another 44 years before eatiang another.
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BUTTTTTTTT. . . . . . I couldn’t just walk away from food, not like have done with the unopened loaf of bread that’s been sitting on my kitchen table since last April. I was not going to waste that precious Corn Nut commodity! True, they are a little more of a challenge to break down into something I could swallow than they were back in 1967.? Today I don’t have most of my 1967 teeth and the ones I purchased since were not made for Corn Nuts consumers. What to do?
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I decided to keep the “barbecue flavored bag of Corn Nuts” or bag of barbecue-flavored Corn Nuts, if you prefer, at “work,” and take the “original flavor” bag home. I resolved to eventually finish those at “work” and to add those taken home Wednesday night (last night) to a can of my favorite?soup: Campbell’s Chicken Gumbo — EXCELLENT SOUP btw.
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So after setting the pan o’ Gumbo on the stove at medium heat and adding what was left of the “C’Nuts” (If you are even slightly dyslexic, I DO NOT ADVISE using that contraction under any circumstance!)? into the pan and stirring. Then I returned to the basement where I’d been doing laundry awhile.?
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Fifteen minutes later after putting the load that would dry and overnight down there into the dryer, I returned upstairs to the kitchen, literally following the aroma of what promised something akin to corn chowder.?? When I removed the top of the pan I was greeted with the sight of boiling, cauldron-like?Corn Nuts on top of the Gumbo. They covered the entire top of the surface (as Yogi Berra might say) like a layer of decapitated yellowish?baby mouse heads and looked just as appetizing.
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Fifteen minutes later “dinner” had cooled on my?living room table to the point I could at least sip something from a soup spoon, and I did. It was a little salty, but not too bad. Five minutes later, I tried a spoon full and regretted my attempt to salvage the Corn Nuts because I had clearly “squandered the Gumbo” if you know what I mean.
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I don’t give up easily (or easily give up, if you prefer) with food. I had some wine close by, and I figured I could eat darn near anything?if I?could wash it down with Burgundy.
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Wrong again. The C’Nuts?were worse than Cheetos left in a open?bowl?on a summer day: no?flavor, hard to chew sans CRUNCH, and a waste of jaw muscle! I grabbed a small dish and began filtering the C’Nuts , depositing them onto the dish and savoring what remained. But the return on the effort was pathetic on balance. I ate less than half the pan. Fortunately, the open jar of Peter Pan crunchy from Monday and Tuesday dinners remained where it always is until I have to buy a new jar of “dinner,” there was plenty remaining therein and plenty of Carlo Rossi (Burgundy) to boot, more accurately, to drink.
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So I finished the ordeal with peanut butter and Burgundy, a lamentable but acceptable meal under the sub-nominal circumstance. I am growing accustomed to the fact I can no longer receive the long-savored Public Broadcasting?Television station on my “‘V,” to coin an abbreviation, and frankly I’m as happy away from the bleeping thing as I am watching it. I submitted to three hours of extremely unimpressive sitcoms on ABC while trying to read the latest ?The New Yorker while half tanked on Rossi and went to bed early for Pete’s sake. I was hot and angry, and vice versa, the story of my life, I suppose.
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I slept very well.
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Live long . . . . . . . and proper.
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