Subject: Grilled Cheese
Date: 5/15/01 6:06 PM
To: Mari, Simone, Heidi, Shanon, Ciam, Mae
I can never eat just one grilled cheese sandwich (unless I am at a
restaurant, where you only get one without going through the whole
place-your-order/payment rigamarole again (and even then I am tempted)). You
see, a grilled cheese sandwich really isn't a lot of food. And I happen to like
them quite a bit (if you don't, well don't worry about it - you may read this
wonderful witty eArticle anyway). As a matter of fact I am making my second
grilled cheese sandwich of the evening out of *bread heels* right this very
moment (who wants to place bets on whether I burn it because I am so wrapped up
in writing all about it for LLeP? And if I do, who wants to place secondary
bets on whether I am grief stricken and angry enough to hurl the charred
remnant on the floor and stomp on it? (Cindy did this once, it could be
catching...)).
As I said, I can never eat only one of the crunchy buttery little buggers.
But I never remember that until after I have eaten the first one, so I wind up
doing almost as much work for my second at home grilled cheese as I would at a
restaurant. I dutifully put away the cheese and bread, clean the counter, and
rinse the cheese slicer while the initial implement of fate is frying with its
first tentative crackles. Then when it is done and out of the pan onto my lucky
little plate, I turn off the stove (this is a big faux pas with *our* stove,
which takes at least five minutes to change temperature (and I mean five
minutes for every stove knob click that you turn it!)).
So there I can be found licking the last flavourful crumbs off the plate, as
I realize that I have to have another one. It is a taste bud imperative! And so
I kick myself for not having learned the lesson yet. I have to get all the
ingredients back out, completely wash the cheese slicer because now it is only
half clean, and somehow the addition of a little water to the cheese that clung
to the slicer is less than appealing. And of course I have to turn the stove
back on and wait an eternity of "damn shit of a stove - tomorrow we are
GOING to buy a new one, a *better* stove, a really *nice* stove, a cooks-perfect-grilled-cheese-in-less-than-three-minutes-including-burner-warmup-time
stove!" before I can finally hear the pleasant crispy frizzly sounds of my
second (and even better of course!) grilled cheese sandwich on its delightful
way into my life.
Tonight I had to endure a particularly ironic twist of fate during the now
familiar "oh no, I have to have *another* one - *when* will I learn?"
episode. I was tidying up after the first sandwich was safely consigned to the
flames (med-lo, and no actual flames - it is one of those ceramic top stoves
invented by some engineer freak of nature who never cooked a three-dish
last-minute I-NEED-IT-HOT-NOW meal in his or her life (we at LLeP support
sexual equality in all matters (except for the fact that girls are better - but
the less said there the better)) .. ah for a nice instant gratification gas
stove - maybe tomorrow...). The cheddar cheese had come out of a ziplock baggie
that was no doubt chosen when the cheese had already diminished considerably in
size from prior grilled cheese depredations. The new cheddar cheese (Tillamook
junior baby loaf - Hanna's orders) was considerably larger (this being one of
the periodic two cheese loaf crossover sandwiches, which link us to nature's
neverending cycles of death and rebirth). It took a great deal of effort and
finagling to get it into the zip lock baggie (hey, this eArticle is getting
downright naughty!). As I was struggling to get the cheese in the bag, I was
mentally commenting on what a struggle it would be to get it back out again.
Need I say more? Yes, of course I need! A few minutes later, with the
tantalizing flavour of the first sandwich dragging me willy nilly into the
construction of the second, I pull the cheese out of the refrigerator, snug in
its tight fitting plastic overcoat. And I realize that I am going to have to
struggle to get it back out again.
There is a lesson in all this, but I think that it will take time to
crystalize for me. Perhaps you, the esteemed reader will arrive at that
consciousness raising moment before me, because I am still too close to it all.
But I am sure it has to do with death and rebirth and condoms.
love love love,
Lizzie