Toss all ingredients in a large bowl. Use your hands to mix everything together. The dough will be dry—not quite as dry as your girl parts, but almost. Do a little math to figure out how many dates you have been on that ended with no happy ending. Answer: all of them. You thought this one would be good to go for sure—he had all the signs of someone desperate for action, right down to the lack of employment, severe stutter, and can of Axe sticking suggestively out of his backpack.
Form the dough into small balls—hey! Maybe the guy had really small balls and was just embarrassed to let you cradle them! Maybe you should call him and tell him that if that is the case you really don’t mind—small is better than nothing, right? Maybe he will appreciate your candor. Or maybe he will take offense and tell you that his balls are huge, in which case you could simply respond, “Prove it.” Butter the bottom of a glass or other flat object and coat with sugar; then smash the cookie balls flat onto an ungreased cookie sheet. (Ouch.) Bake for 10 minutes and lower standards to somewhere between grizzled recluse and registered sex offender.
A DHD ALPHABET SOUP
You will need:
8 oz. vegetable broth
Handful green beans, chopped
¼ cup kidney beans
¼ cup chopped carrots
1 can alphabet soup
Begin by pouring vegetable broth into a small soup pot. Lose interest in soup and decide to do the crossword puzzle instead. Fill in about half of puzzle. Stop. Remove all contents of refrigerator, deciding it needs cleaning. Decide this is quite dull and go to gym. When you get back from gym, put most of refrigerator contents back into fridge. Notice green beans, and remember soup. Chop beans into bite-sized pieces. Take a shower. Next, play solitaire on computer for 30-45 minutes as desired.
Back in the kitchen, restock rest of refrigerator. Chop carrots. Remember that you were supposed to call your mother because it was her birthday last week. Call your mom. When she answers, say, “Hi! Who’s this?” to jog your memory of who it was you called. Let your mom do the talking so you don’t really have to listen. While she rambles, sort out your CD collection. Place all CDs from college in one pile and sort the rest by genre. Then put all CDs in rack in no particular order.
The soup! Tell your mom you have to go. Sit in a chair and think of all the millions of things you need to do. Turn on television and watch Golden Girls marathon on Lifetime. When you notice that you are hungry—stay with me now!—go to kitchen. In cupboard—eyes on me!—find can of alphabet soup. You still here? Good. Open can of soup and put contents into a bowl. Almost done, keep focus! Heat bowl of soup in microwave and eat. You did it!
FOUND OUT YOUR BIRTH MOTHER WAS A CARNEY HOT BEEF SUNDAE
You will need:
½ lb. roast beef
1 package beef gravy mix
1 cup mashed potatoes
Handful shredded cheese
1 cherry tomato
Epsom salts
Warm roast beef in microwave for 30 seconds. Place in a bowl. Check teeth to make sure they are not falling out prematurely. Top roast beef with mashed potatoes. Call adoptive mother and demand more information: Did she run the dunk tank? Was she the cotton candy lady? Was she in the freak show—oh God, was she in the freak show?
Prepare gravy according to package directions. Have sudden horrifying thought: Who’s the father? Rub temples, trying hard to suppress image of dirty toothless gimp that ran the Tilt-a-Whirl at the local fair and unexpectedly licked you that time. Pour desired amount of gravy on top of mashed potatoes and top with grated cheese.
Begin to understand your ability to contort your body into pretzel-like shapes, and put two and two together about the facial hair that’s recently sprouted on your otherwise feminine jawline. Top beef sundae with cherry tomato and enjoy before soaking your webbed feet in hot bath of Epsom salts.
SALMON RUSHDIE FATWA SURPRISE
You will need:
2 salmon fillets
½ package puff pastry
3 Tbs. shallots, minced
Safe house
3 Tbs. chopped tarragon
2 tsp. chopped dill
1 egg, beaten
Kevlar vest
¼ cup white wine
¼ cup white wine vinegar
½ stick cold butter, cut into chunks
You will find this recipe is particularly useful if you are the author Salman Rushdie.
Make quick sweep of safe house to ensure that you are alone with your subversive writings. Preheat oven to 425°F. Roll out puff pastry on a floured surface and cut into two 12 × 6 inch squares. Use a sharp knife to make clean edges, keeping a firm grip on the handle to prevent it from being violently wrenched away from you by a sneaky terrorist. Put on Kevlar vest, just to be on the safe side.
Place 1 salmon fillet in center of each pastry square and season with salt and pepper. Top each with 1 Tbs. shallot, 1 Tbs. tarragon, and 1 tsp. dill. Use egg to brush edges of pastry. Fold long side then short side of pastry over salmon, forming a tidy little package. Seal edges.
Use excess puff pastry to create image of supreme leader of Iran. Give him large, pendulous breasts. Take photo of big-boobied ayatollah to post anonymously online. That’ll show him.
Pop into oven and bake until brown, about 20 minutes or just long enough to begin follow-up novel The Jihadist Wore Red, the one about a lonely warrior for the glory of Islam who secretly yearns to be a rich and famous singer in a Vegas nightclub.
Boil wine, vinegar, and remainder of shallots in a small saucepan until reduced by half. Remove from heat and add butter one chunk at a time while repeating the phrase, “There is no God, there is no God, there is no God, but if there is a God let him like my books.” Whisk in remainder of tarragon and pinch of salt and pepper. Cut salmon surprise into halves and serve with sauce.
Hide.
HELIKES YOUR ROOMMATE KEY LIME PIE
You will need:
1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
4 egg yolks
1cup key lime juice
2 cups heavy cream
½ cup sugar
1 cup powdered weight gainer
1 9-inch graham cracker crust
Beat 2 egg yolks in a large bowl. Add condensed milk while remembering the first time the love of your life came over and spent the entire time talking to your roommate. Recall that your roommate seems to always be stepping out of the shower when he comes over. Add 2 more egg yolks to bowl and beat.
Preheat oven to 350°F. Ask yourself why it is that he and your roommate carry on their conversations in French when neither of them is from France. The only language skill you have is the quickly fading Old Prussian your grandfather insisted you learn. Add key lime juice to bowl.
In roommate’s closet, check the sizes of her clothes. Try some of them on to see how you look. When you realize that you can’t pull her skirts over your thighs, add 1 cup weight gainer protein powder to bowl and beat vigorously. Pour into pie shell and bake for 20 minutes or until set.
Chill pie and beat whipping cream together with sugar and slather all over pie. Being careful not to eat pie, or allow pie to touch skin in any way, leave pie in fridge with a note for roommate saying, “Made this just for you because you’re the best roomie ever!” Sit back and watch her pack on the pounds.
ACCIDENTALLY JOINED THE PTA PERFECT POTLUCK BAKED ZITI
You will need:
1 lb. ziti
1 pint ricotta cheese
1 jar pasta sauce
Booze
Garlic
¼ cup chopped parsley
1 cup shredded mozzarella
½ cup Parmesan cheese
Olive oil
You thought you would just “be a good parent.” You thought, perhaps, it sounded like fun. Or maybe you were just bleary-eyed and hungover when you dropped your kid off and the teacher caught you off guard by saying, “I need someone to be on the PTA,” and you just said, “Yeah, sure.” Whatever the case, you could never
have imagined the bureaucratic nightmare that is the PTA. And now, at least once a semester, you will be asked to provide something for a potluck dinner, a potluck dinner you have no desire to attend. Here is what you do:
Preheat oven to 400°F. Cook pasta according to package directions. Send e-mail to PTA president, lobbying strongly for the inclusion of alcoholic beverages in all potluck evenings. Mix sauce with pasta, stirring to coat. Butter bottom of a lasagna dish. Spread a layer of pasta on the bottom of the dish. Beg spouse to come with you to PTA meetings. Or better yet, to go in your place. When he says no, threaten divorce and call him a bad father. But not in front of the kids. Save the big guns for later.
Mix all three cheeses together with parsley, reserving some Parmesan to sprinkle on top.
Mix ricotta in with pasta. Now is the time to start drinking—not heavily, just enough to numb yourself against the tedium of forty-seven parents complaining about nonorganic snacks and the heaviness of backpacks for three hours.
Layer remaining pasta in dish and cover with additional sauce. Top with Parmesan cheese and a drizzle of olive oil. Bake for 10-15 minutes or until bubbly, enjoying a bit more liquor, but not enough that you will smell like booze. If you do smell like booze, rub some garlic over your skin to cover the scent (and to make it seem as though your ziti is authentic).
Approach spouse once again, telling him that you feel like you’re getting sick, that you just threw up, whatever it takes. When he still won’t agree to go in your place, tell the children that their teacher was supposed to see Daddy at the school tonight, but Daddy’s thinking of not going. Run from room.
When even this tactic fails, resign yourself to attending the potluck, telling yourself that maybe the PTA needs you. Maybe they would be lost without you. Decide to nominate yourself for PTA president and phone prominent elderly politician to inquire if he is looking for a spunky young running mate.
DOUBLE- DETOX MILK SHAKE
You will need:
1 pint ice cream
1 8 oz. container hot fudge sauce
It is imperative when making this recipe to keep the blinds or curtains shut to avoid excess sunlight and to keep the neighbors from seeing for themselves just what a horrid lush you have become.
Using very slow, controlled movements so as not to induce vomiting, remove container of ice cream from the freezer. Do not use more than 1 pint of ice cream or vomiting will surely ensue (unless of course your ice cream of choice is Baskin-Robbins Mint Chocolate Chip, which may be eaten in limitless quantities). Place container in microwave, set on high, for 25 seconds or until soft enough to drink. Drink ½ of milk-shakeish concoction directly from carton. Very important: Do not try to find a glass—they are all lined with the syrupy, goopy residue of tequila, Southern Comfort, or whatever strange beverage that guy from Newark was drinking last night and will inspire vomiting.
Empty contents of fudge sauce into ice cream container and slosh around. Do not use spoons because Newark guy’s junkie friend was over, too, and the spoons were most likely used to “cook up” narcotics. The last thing you need is a serious drug addiction on top of your alcohol dependency. Place ice cream container back in microwave, set on high, for 20 seconds. Swish container around again and drink. Do not attempt to lie down upon finishing shake, as that may result in vomiting. Just stand very still until movement can commence in a steady fashion.
HOME FRIES FOR THE UNINSURED
You will need:
Plastic knife
2 potatoes
Canola oil
½ onion
½ green pepper
Mrs. Dash
Salt
Pepper
Q-Tip
Bourbon
Flashlight
Mirror
Peel and thinly slice potatoes using plastic knife, as you are unable to afford the financial burden of losing a digit or parts thereof. Cut onion and pepper into chunks. Wearing flame-retardant clothing, as skin grafts are extremely costly, pour enough oil to coat a skillet and warm over medium-high heat.
Layer potatoes in the pan, topping with onions and peppers. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and Mrs. Dash. Cover and let cook for 10 minutes or until potatoes are brown on the bottom. Add more oil to the pan and flip potatoes—very carefully—to brown the other side.
Call a friend and offer her fifty dollars to come over and give you a Pap smear. When she reminds you that she is not a doctor, tell her to stop nitpicking and assure her that you will provide the Q-Tips. Cook potatoes for 10 minutes more, until brown and crisp. Enjoy with bourbon to loosen you up, and then using flashlight and mirror perform auto- colonoscopy. Wash hands.
SLEPT WITH YOUR PROFESSOR AND HE STILL GAVE YOU A D BAKED BRIE
You will need:
1 round loaf crusty bread
1 small wheel brie
Dried cherries
Let’s begin by recognizing that your paper on Jacobean tragedy and its parallels with the Reagan administration was deserving of at least a B. The connection between Jerry Falwell and Ferdinand in John Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi was inspired. Preheat oven to 350°F.
Call academic adviser and discuss possibility of taking the class pass/fail so as not to ruin your hard-earned GPA. Slice off top of bread, cut into triangles, and reserve. Scoop out a well in bread the size of cheese. Consider changing majors. Visualize the math department staff naked and abandon idea. Place brie inside bread.
Slowly allow the thought to enter your mind that the lousy grade was reflective not of your paper, but of your performance last Thursday evening in the faculty lounge. Perhaps the spanking was not appreciated. Is it possible that your tears were misinterpreted?
Place bread on a baking sheet and place in oven on middle rack. Remember how he buried his face in the middle of your rack. Bake until cheese is as bubbling and melted as your heart when he read from his book of self-published poetry. Enjoy brie with bread triangles while writing first chapter of a scandalous tell-all novel that will end your professor’s career and make tiresome GPA maintenance totally inconsequential.
UNWANTED PREGNANCY KIELBASA AND SAUERKRAUT
You will need:
$9.49
Kielbasa, sliced into 6 pieces
1 jar sauerkraut
2 potatoes
Ketchup
Caraway seeds
2 apples
1 onion
2 Tbs. brown sugar
Count out $9.49 from change jar. Go to drugstore and buy generic brand pregnancy test. After you slide your pile of change across the counter, resist slapping the cashier when he says, “Good luck, Mommy.”
At home, take test. When it is confirmed that you are pregnant, try to determine who the hell did this to you. If you can pinpoint the guilty party, it is a good idea to tell him, provided that you know his name and phone number. The subsequent conversation can range in tone from unpleasant to extremely unpleasant.
Open jar of sauerkraut and rinse under cold water. Peel and chop apples and potatoes and place into a large pot with kielbasa, sauerkraut, chopped onion, and a good squeeze of ketchup. Sprinkle on caraway seeds, top with lid, and let simmer while you make some hard decisions. If you are considering putting unwanted baby up for adoption, make a list of qualities you would look for in an adoptive family for your mistake. Included in that list should be:Must have home
Must have job or other means to support child that does not include
a crystal-meth lab
Must not be crazy people
Must not be likely to sell child on black market (as far as you know)
Must not have room in attic or basement where thirty adopted
children work sewing soccer balls or making Hello Kitty pencil
cases
Family pet—good
Family dog-fighting ring—bad
Sit for a while and feel sorry for your pregnant self, knowing full well that it is your fault. Except in cases where it is not at all your fault. Sprinkle brown
sugar into pot, and let simmer until potatoes are fully cooked. Eat while considering all options, being mindful that you are eating for two. Sorry.
THREE-ALARM CHILI FOR BAD MOTHERS
You will need:
1 lb. ground beef
Soundproofing
2 Tbs. oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 28 oz. can tomatoes
2 tsp. chili powder
1 Tbs. brown sugar
Pinch oregano
Salt
Eat Your Feelings_Recipes for Self-Loathing Page 8