Snarling Skillet

Well, another week gone by.

Another seven days of walking the streets, pounding on doors, being interviewed by total jackasses and having to pretend I like them, and summing up my entire professional career into a two page resume (actually, that last part wasn't that tough).

Unemployment sucks. Luckily, I've been picking up some catering gigs here and there or I might've run out of beer money. Then I'd really be pissed.

I have begun to go back to some old habits that I gave up when I decided to pursue a life of slicing and searing. Back then, just out of high school, I had the entire daytime TV schedule memorized. I did a lot of crossword puzzles, and tore them to shreds when I couldn't finish them. I drank a lot, but only booze because I thought beer was fattening (lite beer was too expensive). I smoked too, from my ears and the top of my head. I lived with three other guys and my sous- Angry chef Tulip at the time, and we all made most of our money playing cards, hustling pool, and robbing gas stations. My sous- Angry chef Tulip ran some sort of website too; but I've never been good with computers.

I lived mostly on booze and ramen noodles and I thought I ate like a king. But there was this one guy that used to come over all the time and bring us these white, plastic bags full of food leftover from the restaurant he worked at as a fry bitch. Onion rings, french fries, chicken patties, jalapeno poppers, mini tacos, you name it... he could plunge it into boiling oil and make it delicious. My sous- Angry chef Tulip used to call him the Truman of cholesterol a-bombs.

One time when this guy was over, he caught me in our small kitchen making a pot of Oriental Ramen. In a coffee maker no less. He threw me against a wall, which collapsed, and with drywall and plaster sifting down around our faces screamed at me, "I can't let you do this to yourself anymore! You're killing yourself! This is no way to live!" He let me up and started telling me some bullshit about catching a fish for someone and they're good for a meal vs. showing someone how to fish so they're good for a lifetime. I totally ignored all of this because I hate fish. I don't think I need to go into this, besides saying that they're slimy, nasty creatures that eat worms. They belong on your walls or buried in your garden. If you like fish please pull your head out of your ass and out of the Stone Age. Goddamn..

Back to the story: So, in order to round out the limited number of dishes I could prepare at the time, and to ensure that I'd have enough energy to drink, gamble and run from the cops, he showed me how to make this recipe.

I could really use some of that old youthful energy today. So I call up my sous- Angry chef, Tulip, and tell her to get her ass over here.

What You Need To Get:

1 pound ground beef (unfortunately, the dude who showed me this, like I said, had a job. He didn't pick easy-to-steal ingredients)

1 can Cream of Mushroom soup, condensed (I take it back, stealing soup's easier then robbing a Lion's club bell ringer)

Minute Rice

Frozen corn

Salt and pepper

First thing, take the meat and drop it in a hot pan. You want it to sizzle when it hits the pan and to have it make that wonderful, angry "ssssssssssss"sound. Use a spoon or a fork or your hands (watch your knuckles) to break it up into small pieces while it turns grey and then brown. When the meat's how you like it (it really doesn't matter what color it is, it's just that the civilized world generally eats their meat cooked. Sushi is another thing I hate about fish.), you may want to drain off the grease. Really this decision comes down to how hungover you are. Since my fucking bank account is almost empty, I didn't drink last night. Therefore, I drain it while I mutter under my breath. Then I hit it with salt and pepper.

My sous-Angry chef, Tulip, has opened up the soup and she "pours" it over the beef. It comes out more like a big grey piece of shit but evens itself out as I stir it in. Then she takes the soup can, fills it with water, and adds it to the beef. She takes a spoon and empties out every last bit in the can because we paid for it and want our money's worth. Christ, pull the noose a little tighter, Campbells.

Then, using the same can one more time, my sous- Angry chef, Tulip fills it to the brim with Minute Rice and adds it to the beef. Once again, she spoons every little bit out.

She missed a little rice around the edges and while I dump pepper on the whole mess I loudly criticize her technique. She clears her throat, says I'm a little "edgy" today, and points at the pan. I may have gone a little overboard with the pepper. But that's OK. Pepper totally makes this dish.

Furious with life and in general, I turn up the heat and start to bring my skillet to a boil. My sous- Angry chef, Tulip, throws on a couple handfuls of the frozen corn. Just when the pan is bubbling I throw a lid on it and turn the heat down to a simmer.

Then we wait about twenty or thirty minutes, chugging beers and trading stories of douchebags long ago hustled.

I go back to uncover my pan and crank up the heat. I do this to get rid of excess moisture. You want a thick end result, not soup. Soup if for the old and infirm. Soup (with the exception of chili) is for pussies. And if anyone offers you a "bowl of chowdah" and you don't immediately contemplate socking them in the jaw then I need you to get off this page right the fuck now and never come back.

Anyways, we're done. Hit it with some more pepper. Dump it on a plate. Get in front of the TV and devour.

On a final note, I ran into the guy who taught me this just a few weeks ago. He now owns a "well- being" restaurant, whatever the fuck that is. I told him I had been making this recipe again recently and he got all excited. Dancing around in his ripped up corduroys, tripping out of his sandals, nappy dreads swinging everywhere. He told me, between wheezy breaths, that you can make it with ground turkey, brown rice, homemade, organic soup and about a billion different veggies from the farmer's market.

I listened to him patiently and thought about all the things I had to get in order, all the stupid pointless errors I had to run in order to achieve nothing at all, and how complicated he wanted something so good and simple to be.

But I kept the smile plastered to my face and waited till he was done ranting and raving and spitting on me. And then, I flipped him off and stomped away...