You learn a lot about the properties of food and what you are able to tolerate when your resources are limited. I never was, and do not claim to be, any type of culinary savant. In fact, I have about 5 dishes I cook with enough proficiency to prevent embarrassment at a potluck function - chili, green bean casserole, spinach artichoke dip, taco salad, and broccoli rice casserole. As someone who admittedly did more screwing around in home-ec, or domestic engineering, what ever the politically correct term is these days, than actual baking or sauteing, I choose a simple and uncomplicated method for cooking.

I have been known to mix mac-n-cheese with hot dogs (you should always have an element of protein in your meals), made sure the legacy of stuff on bread lived on by passing the secret recipe onto Butterfinger, put tuna in spaghetti (again, protein), made one can of chicken noodle soup last for days by adding corn and water, make cheaters’ chili by throwing a bunch of cans of assorted legumes into a crock pot, and on many days consider instant rice, tuna, and hot sauce a full course meal. I am not endorsing this type of nourishment in any way shape or form, but as I mentioned earlier, when funds are tight, you really start to test the limits of what your tastebuds and gastrointestinal tract will tolerate.

Yesterday was no exception to the rule on this quest for nutriment. My morning started off with a styrofoam cup of shrimp ramen. I prefer to make my ramen the “old fashioned way” using actual boiling water and a waiting technique commonly known as ‘patience’. I bring up this method of ramen preparation because I feel that it is much more superior to that of my ramen-eating counterpart that chooses to put cold water in the cup, throw it in our 1970s microwave for about 3 minutes, and consume it at a rate of 20 noodles/second. The ‘patience’ method creates more anticipation for the meal at hand while allowing the noodles to bask in the sodium-infused pseudo-shrimp base. As usual, the ramen did not disappoint, although they could increase the size of their freeze dried Sea Monkey shrimp to 4 mm instead of 2 mm, and I was satisfied for a few hours.

At around 4 pm my mind has used all of its ramen power and I was again grazing the shelves for calories. I spotted a bag of microwave popcorn that had been hidden behind some oatmeal and knew this would be the perfect match for my level of need. Popping was a success, but the tasting was not up to par. This bag definitely needed some buttery attention or it was going to be a pre-dinner snack for the drooling dogs. Seeing as I have not actually cooked anything other than water or spaghetti on the stove in the past month, it did not surprise me that we were out of butter, but we did have margarine. So without considering the inherent properties of Country Crock, I spooned some in a bowl, set the microwave to 20 seconds, and waiting for it to turn into a heavenly, buttery spread.

I tilted the melted margarine container toward the steaming popcorn, and just as the chemical liquidity touched down on the superheated maize, it melted the kernels! One by one the Country Crock coated morsels shriveled up, effecting neighboring morsels and compromising their structure. Since I had not been paying attention while dumping the fake butter into the bag, the margarine melting disease was rampant, and by the time the wildfire had gotten under control there were not many pieces spared. I made due with the 20 dry, remaining maize bites, and learned a valuable lesson - margarine is not really a butter substitute.

November 28th, 2007 | Startup Diet, Startup Sacrifices