Tuesday, May 10, 2005

So long, and thanks for all the instant scalloped potatoes.

Instant scalloped potatoes are so damn good that I just raided the fridge and ate tonight's leftovers cold. They are so damn good that one wonders why one would ever bother scalloping one's own potatoes. Then one reads the ingredient list on the box of instant potatoes, knows why one ought to scallop one's own, and prays that death comes quickly.

I blame my aunt Jan in B.C., the queen of the can, bearer of the box, the Great Reconstitutor. Upon returning from our gourmet vacation out there last month, I decided that the odd canned stew won't kill us - just save us a bit of money and preserve us well into the next century. Hey, it's a nostalgia thing; I grew up on canned soups and stews and Kraft Dinner galore, though my mother did indeed scallop her own potatoes.

We saw The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy tonight and had a ball. I read the book in high school, and so knew enough about it all to enjoy it, but didn't remember it so clearly that I ever thought, Hey! It shouldn't go like that!

So tonight, when I die in my sleep, at least there was a good movie, and there were some damn good reconstituted potatoes, graced by a delicate sauce of corn starch, MSG, mono and diglycerides, and eye of newt. Burp.

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