Today's message comes to you from deep down in the laughter factory of the cosmos. It is one of those stories that, when mentioned to those directly involved, will cause the memory to come rushing back spreading smiles around the room. In fact, one us will burst out laughing as if it just happened! I hope I do it justice with my retelling of it here.
Did you ever have one of those dinner parties where things didn't go quite as planned? If you have ever been in charge of feeding someone who isn't related to you, in your own kitchen, then I am sure you have. Growing up, having my mom say facetiously "I hope everyone enjoyed the (rolls, green salad, rice, jello) since they are still in the (oven, fridge, pot, counter)." Yes, it was common for our family to have way too much food and then forget that we had prepared something that never made it to the table. (Yes mom, I am saying 'we' made stuff but everyone knows it was all you. Don't tell. I have a blogging reputation to uphold.)
Dad was no stranger to creating laughs at a gathering but his was more of a shock factor. My parents had prudently bought "unbreakable" dishes when we kids were still little. They weren't merely crack resistant. They actually said, unbreakable. No, we didn't eat off of prison issue tin trays. They were kind of nice. They were completely white and they held food. What more could you ask. The salesman, in true showman style, sold my dad on these dishes by reaching out to hand him a plate and, as my dad was reaching to take it, he let it go and sent it falling to certain doom. The plate fell to the floor, clattered and banged and caused heart-rates to soar, but it didn't break or even chip. It was my dad's favorite ice breaker to re-create this demonstration in our kitchen. I had seen him do it at least two dozen times and it was always hysterical. The problem is that these plates were designed to not break if they accidentally fell to the floor once or twice. After being dropped dozens of times their luck falls short and eventually they will break. I know this from my dad's final, and equally hilarious, demonstration. Can you say millions of pieces?!
When Sylvia and I got married we decided that we didn't want to carry on the tradition of leaving food un-eaten or dropping dishes. We decided to come up with our own shtick!
One night, several years ago, we had invited some friends, Bob, Jeanine, and their kids, over to dinner. The friendship and the conversation was the goal and the food was secondary. So no one would have to work in the kitchen we collectively decided that we would just "pop in a frozen lasagna" and spend most of the time talking and laughing. (laughter is a pre-requisite around here) The evening was going as well as any evening where we got to visit with good friends and we started to set the table and get everyone ready to sit and eat. We all sat. I probably picked up my knife and fork and started banging them on the table chanting..."food food food." (I didn't really, but you totally believed that I am capable of that right?) The timer went off and Sylvia got up and walked over to the over to bring the lasagna to the table.
I'm not sure if you have ever eaten a frozen lasagna, but if you have you'll know that they do not use the most sturdy of pans. The pan is made up of a very thin grade of crinkled aluminum that is rolled at the top to make a lip. The pans, in fact, seem so thin that it seems entirely possible for it to develop a hole and have a large portion of the sauce and noodles ooze out and coat the bottom of the oven in a blackened hardened shell. That is not what happened. No, the lasagna looked great! It smelled great! We were all starving! Bring on the grub!
Sylvia got the patented oven mitt with the non skid coating (I'll mention the real name as soon as they sponsor my blog) and she bent down to grab the food. Did you ever notice that your dog, whether invited or not, will always check to see what you are taking out of the oven? It happens so often that eventually he will get tangled between your legs and cause a slapstick juggling act worthy of most of the silent film stars! Food will fly. People will dive for cover! And the dog is rewarded with a meal fit for a king! Well that didn't happen either.
No, Sylvia grabbed the edges of the 9 by 13 aluminum lasagna pan, took it out of the oven, and carried it two and a half feet to the table. Almost. She was about two and a quarter feet short of the distance. We had forgotten the cardinal rule of frozen lasagna baking. The pan, which seems solid as cast iron while frozen, is as flimsy as wet facial tissue (another sponsorship opportunity) when the contents are piping hot! There, in black and white on the package, it reads, "If you don't put this flimsy aluminum pan on a cookie sheet while it is baking, when you try to take it out of the oven the ends will fold up, the middle will drop down, and your friend Bob will laugh so hard that tears will stream down his face!" It was oddly specific but that is exactly what happened!
When Sylvia tried to take it out of the oven, the pan held on until she was past the oven door. Had it begun to crease there, she could have set it down quickly and then slid it onto a cookie sheet. We would have talked about how lucky that was as we ate slightly disheveled lasagna. No, this lasagna pan held on until it was over the floor and when it started to give Sylvia later explained that her first thought was to put her knee out to "catch" it and keep it from crashing to the floor. She thought better of that and stopped her knee from going out since third degree burns really put a damper on an evening. The lasagna went crashing to the floor and so did the tears that were rolling off Bob's face. You see Bob and I operate under the same theory that if you are going to laugh about it someday, you may as well start now!
Bob turned out to be the hero in our story and as we cleaned up the mess he ran to the store and got everything we would need to make spaghetti and the dinner was saved, but we forgot the garlic bread in the oven...I hope everyone enjoyed it!
Did you ever have one of those dinner parties where things didn't go quite as planned? If you have ever been in charge of feeding someone who isn't related to you, in your own kitchen, then I am sure you have. Growing up, having my mom say facetiously "I hope everyone enjoyed the (rolls, green salad, rice, jello) since they are still in the (oven, fridge, pot, counter)." Yes, it was common for our family to have way too much food and then forget that we had prepared something that never made it to the table. (Yes mom, I am saying 'we' made stuff but everyone knows it was all you. Don't tell. I have a blogging reputation to uphold.)
Dad was no stranger to creating laughs at a gathering but his was more of a shock factor. My parents had prudently bought "unbreakable" dishes when we kids were still little. They weren't merely crack resistant. They actually said, unbreakable. No, we didn't eat off of prison issue tin trays. They were kind of nice. They were completely white and they held food. What more could you ask. The salesman, in true showman style, sold my dad on these dishes by reaching out to hand him a plate and, as my dad was reaching to take it, he let it go and sent it falling to certain doom. The plate fell to the floor, clattered and banged and caused heart-rates to soar, but it didn't break or even chip. It was my dad's favorite ice breaker to re-create this demonstration in our kitchen. I had seen him do it at least two dozen times and it was always hysterical. The problem is that these plates were designed to not break if they accidentally fell to the floor once or twice. After being dropped dozens of times their luck falls short and eventually they will break. I know this from my dad's final, and equally hilarious, demonstration. Can you say millions of pieces?!
When Sylvia and I got married we decided that we didn't want to carry on the tradition of leaving food un-eaten or dropping dishes. We decided to come up with our own shtick!
One night, several years ago, we had invited some friends, Bob, Jeanine, and their kids, over to dinner. The friendship and the conversation was the goal and the food was secondary. So no one would have to work in the kitchen we collectively decided that we would just "pop in a frozen lasagna" and spend most of the time talking and laughing. (laughter is a pre-requisite around here) The evening was going as well as any evening where we got to visit with good friends and we started to set the table and get everyone ready to sit and eat. We all sat. I probably picked up my knife and fork and started banging them on the table chanting..."food food food." (I didn't really, but you totally believed that I am capable of that right?) The timer went off and Sylvia got up and walked over to the over to bring the lasagna to the table.
I'm not sure if you have ever eaten a frozen lasagna, but if you have you'll know that they do not use the most sturdy of pans. The pan is made up of a very thin grade of crinkled aluminum that is rolled at the top to make a lip. The pans, in fact, seem so thin that it seems entirely possible for it to develop a hole and have a large portion of the sauce and noodles ooze out and coat the bottom of the oven in a blackened hardened shell. That is not what happened. No, the lasagna looked great! It smelled great! We were all starving! Bring on the grub!
Sylvia got the patented oven mitt with the non skid coating (I'll mention the real name as soon as they sponsor my blog) and she bent down to grab the food. Did you ever notice that your dog, whether invited or not, will always check to see what you are taking out of the oven? It happens so often that eventually he will get tangled between your legs and cause a slapstick juggling act worthy of most of the silent film stars! Food will fly. People will dive for cover! And the dog is rewarded with a meal fit for a king! Well that didn't happen either.
No, Sylvia grabbed the edges of the 9 by 13 aluminum lasagna pan, took it out of the oven, and carried it two and a half feet to the table. Almost. She was about two and a quarter feet short of the distance. We had forgotten the cardinal rule of frozen lasagna baking. The pan, which seems solid as cast iron while frozen, is as flimsy as wet facial tissue (another sponsorship opportunity) when the contents are piping hot! There, in black and white on the package, it reads, "If you don't put this flimsy aluminum pan on a cookie sheet while it is baking, when you try to take it out of the oven the ends will fold up, the middle will drop down, and your friend Bob will laugh so hard that tears will stream down his face!" It was oddly specific but that is exactly what happened!
When Sylvia tried to take it out of the oven, the pan held on until she was past the oven door. Had it begun to crease there, she could have set it down quickly and then slid it onto a cookie sheet. We would have talked about how lucky that was as we ate slightly disheveled lasagna. No, this lasagna pan held on until it was over the floor and when it started to give Sylvia later explained that her first thought was to put her knee out to "catch" it and keep it from crashing to the floor. She thought better of that and stopped her knee from going out since third degree burns really put a damper on an evening. The lasagna went crashing to the floor and so did the tears that were rolling off Bob's face. You see Bob and I operate under the same theory that if you are going to laugh about it someday, you may as well start now!
Bob turned out to be the hero in our story and as we cleaned up the mess he ran to the store and got everything we would need to make spaghetti and the dinner was saved, but we forgot the garlic bread in the oven...I hope everyone enjoyed it!
No comments:
Post a Comment