Have you ever had 5 people just stare at you without saying a word? Welcome to dinner with the Barbarian and family!
While everyone else dined on a spread I would kill for, I saved my main course to have with them. What could that be? God forsaken mussels of course:
What else did you expect?
The divide between the two camps was wide and the table long however:
On one side sat the residents of the beach front house, on the other the resident of the tent in their backyard who was almost booted out by the gardener.
Everyone did feel bad for my predicament, my grandmother really wouldn’t look me in the eye she felt so bad, but that wasn’t going to stop anyone from eating:
or some friendly taunting:
I can’t blame him; I’d do the same if the roles were reversed.
Two seconds later my father recommended I roll one of my mussels in the eggplant. I had no comment; I was already considering doing that.
Dinner however changed everything. I went for a walk, and when I came back the table was set. Let’s take a look at what they would be having:
I believe that’s my friend Mr. Hamburger, and oh wait who’s that:
Their buddies hot dogs and cheese! Huzzah!
In comparison I had a multi-course meal (two to be exact) The first course was killies:
And how was this fine meal prepared? Well, first cut the heads off and pull out the guts:
Now remember that these are typically used exclusively as bait fish though. Hopefully you’ll have a big old pile of them, I actually did with a few baby shrimp mixed in:
Finally boil them all (using a mummy trap as a giant strainer), and you have course one:
To be honest the food situation wasn’t as terrible as I had thought (because I’m pretty sure I’ve already lost my mind), but it was the small stuff that made for an interesting day.
The first thing everyone did when they got in (after saying hello of course) was to go into the kitchen and eat. Its what Italians do. Hearing people talk about “splitting a cookie” did however blow my mind. Yea, I’d split a cookie…into half dozen batches.
Sure when everyone is outside its great, not talking to anyone for 4 days can be trying, but when they’re inside those screendoors begin to feel an awful lot like prison bars. The worst part is of course that this is a self imposed prison sentence.
Everyone was having a grand old time though:
But we were drawing closer to dinner, where the differences would become more stark.
“Is that you that smells like fish?” asked my brother Mike.
So as I mentioned the barbarians have arrived, so obviously the game has changed a bit. Let’ introduce the players:
My dad
My brother
His girlfriend
My dad’s parents (aka Mr. and Mrs. Costanza)
While I was worried before about having invaders, it is nice to have someone to chat with about my adventures thus far and my strategies moving forward. Of course when they walk into the house, I have to go around, but at first these are minor inconveniences.
The biggest issue however is due to the fact that my dad’s side of the family (with me included) usually want to focus on the singular topic of food. Sure we spoke of Tim Russert’s passing (he spoke at my graduation, so I have a soft spot for him), my cousins (who are apparently rabidly following my adventures), and other things, but we always want to come back to food. I say want, because my grandmother (Sicilian) has decided there was no food talk allowed.
For a woman whose life revolved around the subject, this led to open mouth disbelief. It was like watching Jesus become an atheist.
With the family coming today I decided that I needed to clean up a bit. I’m probably not the most appetizing human you have ever met right now. I currently smell like one of my old Italian uncles, you know, the ones that haven’t yet realized that deodorant is more for my benefit than for theirs? Either that or they could just care less, I could never figure out which.
While this problem is easily solved, mouth care is a little more tricky; I could probably cut my breath with a butter knife. Anyone who knows me can attest to the face that I am a rabid gum chewer to keep my breath fresh (before that I was a wintergreen Altoids fanatic, until my dentist convinced me otherwise. No cavities for 20 yrs. I start eating Altoids, 5 of them. By the time I go back to get those cavities filled I had another two. In the middle of our discussion of how this could happen the can of ‘toids in m pocket fell out of my pocket. ”How many of those do you eat?” ”Uhhhh, a can or two a week.” I had an addiction and there is no patch. Here’s my new obsession: Trident Tropical Twist, I’ve never looked back. But I digress.)
Where was I? Oh yea, teeth! So the fact that I can taste my breath is driving me nuts. While none of the survival guides I had read gave an help regarding the maintenance of one’s teeth (odd considering if your teeth go, how are you going to eat? Puree everything?) so I’ve decided to improvise. Here is the Barbarian’s halfassed survival cure for teeth care.
First find a pine cone, like so:
Because there are cobwebs and any number of foul little surprises in there, its time for the barbarian’s cure all, soaking it:
Make sure to weigh it down, otherwise, like all wood, it will float defeating the whole purpose of soaking it. I would boil it, but that might soften it too much for my purpose.
Now brush:
Don’t forget to brush your tongue next:
Wise words because I did:
Ahhhh, the things we do to make ourselves beautiful….or in my case palatable.
So today is my version of hump day; I get past today and its downhill the rest of the way. While my family will likely show up in the next 4 hours, I’m not quite sure what to expect. Its going to be a whirlwind to my current ordered (for the first time ever) existence. Maybe I can coerce one of them into being an impromptu camera crew.
But being in the the middle has me looking past the end, to the questions that remain when this is all over; I need to order everything else.
A few weeks after this is done I’ll be moving to a new city (Chicago); once there I need to get a job and figure out my life. Just another day as a member of generation Y. So what should I do for employment? Write? Something food related? Perhaps professionally live off the land? Trust me, I’m open to ideas.
But that’s not the only thing that’s on my mind. What do I do with this blog that has perked so much interest? Just shut it down? Keep writing? If so then what to write about that people would find of interest? Maybe I’m just going to be a one blog wonder.
I would at the very least love to meet Les “Survivorman” Stroud or Bear “Man vs. Wild” Grylls. Somehow. I have a newfound appreciation for what they do, and would like to tell them so.
If anyone has any answers to any of these questions (3 anys, I know) feel free to chime in. At this point, I can look ahead at the questions, but the only answer I can worry about is what’s my next meal going to be. Likely mussels.
