So on Sunday for our domestically planned meal, I made Ratatouille.
No. I never had ratatouille for dinner growing up; never really had anything that exotic, for that matter. Usually we just had "chili" - consisting of a can of dice tomatoes and a can of beans, warmed over the stove - or the occasional Hamburger Helper. But oh yes, eggplant. Well, no. We never had eggplant either. I had never even tried it until 2 weeks ago at Kaitlin's house. However, I knew what eggplant was at a very young age because of a certain man who played a vital role in my growing up: Elmer Fudd.
Everytime I think of eggplant, I think of Elmer Fudd. Looney and Tiny Toons gave me much of my early doses of culture. The Toons is where I first learned the story Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, where I listened to and enjoyed classical music, and where I became acquainted with Shakespeare. You could say cartoons turned me into an English teacher; go figure.
So anyway, there was an eggplant episode. This eggplant episode referenced the old Hitchcock classic Rear Window. (What hasn't?) So anyway, Plucky Duck breaks his leg, of course, and as he peers out the window through binoculars, he sees Elmer Fudd growing eggplants...
...and of course in his cooped-up insanity, imagines something like this: 
So naturally when I went to the store to buy eggplant, I instantly thought of a cute little Elmer Fudd head. I then promptly sliced his face off and chopped it into edible cubes. Eat your heart out, Hitchcock.
Kelly came over to help me make dinner:
He made sure I was extremely domestic, making it all on my own without the help of a man. 
That's a picture of my hair falling into the Ratatouille as a little "surprise." Kind of like Marti Gras. Whoever finds the hair, wins a prize!
The meal turned out really well and we all stuffed ourselves to the brim. The evening ended with light talk of muppets and the consumption of delicious cake waffles.
Success.
Posts
2 comments:
That's fun. I think everyone should make up little traditions that they always had when they were growing up, just to make their childhood seem less bleak and full of mistakes. When I was younger, we would always fly kites on the beaches of Nantucket right before our clam-bake on Memorial Day.
Listen eggplant girl. That's all they eat in this place called Fiji. Eggplant and curry. And guess what it made my insides turn into outsides. I'll die before I ever eat it again. Here's a six word memoir on eggplants:
Projectile vomit. Explosive diarhea. Die eggplant.
Post a Comment