Saturday, October 25, 2008

Cooking Sternly

I was told I wasn't allowed to tell anyone about this story, so in order to honor that yet still get this little tid-bit out there I'm going to be very discreet and just say that one of my sisters called and had this conversation with me. I'm not gonna say which one, and I'm not even gonna use a fake name ok, so don't ask.

So, I got this phone call from a sister asking me if I knew anything about spaghetti.
"The food or the straps?"
"The food."
"What don't I know?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm calling."
"What's there to know? It's pasta. It tastes good with sauce. All kinds of sauce. Except soy sauce, cause then it's not spaghetti, then it's chow mein."
"What? I don't like Chinese food you know that."
"Yes you do. You like orange chicken."
"That's from Panda Express."
"I'm pretty sure Panda Express qualifies itself as Chinese food."
"Anything you can only find in a food court isn't real Chinese food."
"I'm pretty sure it's the only food in a food court."
"Amy!"
"What?"
"Where are you?"
"Coffee shop. I'm trying to work, what do you need?"
"Is there anyone there you're going to repeat to what I'm about to say?"
"No. Well, there's a priest here. Like an acutal priest, with the little white collar thing and all, but he looks Jewish."
"Ok, you can tell him but no one else."
"Deal." (Opens internet and starts blogging as she's speaking)
"So this spaghetti thing. . ."
"Yeah?"
"How do you . . . I mean, when you're cooking it. . . do you put the noodles in before the water or after the water? And if it's after the water do you wait for it to boil first or just plop it in cold?"
". . ."
"Aim?"
"Dude. . ."
"Stop! I hear you about to make fun of me."
"We ate spaghetti almost three times a week when we were growing up, and then we ate it three times a week when we were in college and living in the same house."
"Yeah but you or mom always made it."
"I'm pretty sure Michael could make it at this point."
"C'mon!"
"Fine. I'm sorry. Just boil some water and throw the pasta in for 8-10 minutes."
"Oh. . .ok. That's what I thought."
"If you throw a piece against the wall and it sticks it's done."
"Oh, if I throw it on Beth and it sticks does that also mean it's done?"
"Absolutely."

Later I mentioned that she made macaroni and cheese all the time and didn't it ever occur to her that it was pretty much the same thing. "No," she said. "Macaroni and cheese has neon stuff that gets mixed into it and spaghetti is just plain old red. I didn't know what to do without the powder pack."


And that's why I love her.

2 comments:

Tiana said...

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (tm Wanda)

I loved this story the first time and I love it even more in blog form!

And YAY for blogging again! If you're going to insist on living thousands of miles away from me, you've got to at least give me my blog fix more often. Never you mind we talk on the phone every day...I need all the Amy I can get.

Carrie said...

Finally! Someone who knows less about cooking than I do!

Tell your shall-remain-nameless sister that I absolutely adore her for this. Even more than before, I mean.

Or I guess I could just walk the ten steps it would take for me to get to her front door and tell her myself.