"My work may be garbage but it's good garbage." Mickey Spillane
In honor of Julia Child and the new movie about her, I am presenting you with the first in my Nitwit Cooking series. I hope that you enjoy them as much as I do. I have enough to cover several days of post, but am always looking for more contributions for them.
Courtesy of Phil Smith:
Hamburgers a la Nickolaus.
1) Beg grandmother for $20
2) Beg cousin for a lift to McDonald’s
3) Buy two Happy Meals and eat them both.
4) Beg cousin for a lift back
1) Go to any burger outlet.
2) Find a female attendant at the counter. Place order, substituting the words ‘jizz’, ‘cum’, ‘semen’ and any other synonym for ejaculate where possible. When she shows signs of discomfort, complain to the manager.
1) Get a job in McDonald’s.
2) Take Big Mac bun, shit in it twice — one for each layer. Wipe your arse on a leaf of lettuce and put that in too.
3) When the customer complains to the manager, lecture them both about how the food industry is dead and how you’re saving it.
4) Then for the next few days, follow the customer around. Post notes through her letter box saying “You bitch, you deserve to be raped and killed. ;)”
[Got to have the winky emoticon in it too. “But it was a joke! Can’t you see it was a joke?”]
Courtesy of Johaha
Dagstine’s Genius Lasagna:
Remember, for the best lasagna always begin by threatening, then bragging and cajoling others into thinking it’s the best. And remember, if some doubt your genius, even bad press is good press.
6 pounds of choice minced beef on special half-price because its due date was yesterday. Why so much? Well, use 2 pounds. Sell the rest at a genre market stall for even less. You’ll make a fortune! Trust me.
4 boxes of lasagna sheets you got your parents to buy for you.
3 tins of chopped tomatoes you lifted from the corner store. And no, that isn’t you seen in the CCTV footage.
2 whopping big deep baking dishes you “borrowed” from your partner’s mother. (Don’t return it.)
1 onion, a garlic clove, beef stock, some basil and other spices, all taken from your mother’s cupboard.
Now beg your mother to make it for you. Claim you’ve got ear cancer and can’t do it yourself. Disappear for a while until done.
Place on your bedspread and photograph, claiming it is your family table. Talk about how difficult yet rewarding it was to create this dish for your loving family.
Now be sure and speak a bit about how you’re single-handedly revolutionising the lasagna business. Refer to yourself as an “icon” or “urban legend”.
If anyone questions your genius, threaten and stalk them and be sure to mention you have a private detective ready to pounce on them. If they call your bluff, disappear again until it blows over.
What does this have to do with making good lasagna? Nothing. It’s the bad press that makes people think you make great lasagna. Practicing and honing your cooking skills is not required.
Courtesy of Rusty
Coq au Vin
Cook Time: 4 hours