All the equipment required was one burner of the stove and a
two-gallon pot half filled with sea water, to which was added:
Ø A can of soup;
Ø A can or sealed jar of meat balls with spaghetti and tomato
sauce, corned beef hash with a boiled egg atop, spaghetti and cheese, or any
number of similar items;
Ø Any canned vegetable as desired;
Ø Any fresh vegetable that can be cooked in salt water, such as
potatoes, onions, squash, carrots, corn, turnips, and green peppers;
Ø For dessert, a couple of bananas can be thrown in and eaten as a
vegetable if desired, or with brown sugar and milk.
The instructions were to place all cans in the pot on their sides
with their labels removed. “If placed on end, the boiling will make them rattle
like a dozen castanets,” said the voice of experience. “On top and in between,
place the vegetables and, later on, the bananas, all with their jackets on.
Bring to a boil, cook for 20 minutes, and dinner is ready.”
Now, I could hardly suppress a shudder when I read that list. It
seems fairly innocuous at first glance, but I couldn’t help feeling that some
of this (maybe a lot of this) was mighty unhealthy fodder according to modern
thinking.
Times have changed. How would we get along these days without
gluten-free cookies, fat-free milk, and cholesterol free meatballs — in fact, meat-free meatballs? Where would we be
without organic vegetables and calorie counts on everything?
Which leads me to another questions: Will we still die if we stop
eating the stuff that’s killing us, and eat healthily instead? In other words,
what is our excuse for dying now that we don’t derive our meals from cans
boiled in a two-gallon pot? All I can say is that anyone who dies from now on
has got some explaining to do.
Today’s Thought
I want a dish to taste
good, rather than to have been seethed in pig’s milk and served wrapped in a
rhubarb leaf with grated thistle root.— Kingsley Amis.
Tailpiece
No doubt you’ve heard a
“fly-in-my-soup” joke. Well, I have 30 of them, and I’m not going to waste them
by using them all at once. No sir, I’m going to dole them out over the next 30
columns. So stand by with your groans, here goes:
“Waiter, there’s a fly in
my soup.”
(1)“It’s all right, sir,
he won’t live long in that stuff.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly
about Boats column.)
