Cooking With Failure
~ OLDTIME STEAK RECIPE ~
Ingredients:
4
sirloin steak
3 cups salt
1 bottle ketchup
1 bowl
1 knife
1 fork
Take the sirloin
steaks out of the packaging. Now, while you’re preparing the steaks
for cooking, what I like to do, and what I recommend you do, is take
the wrapping the steak came in and suck on it. You’ll find it tastes
a lot like steak, especially if the steak was wrapped in paper, which
is very absorbant. Place the steaks on a cutting board, and take one
of the cups of salt and pour the cup of salt over the steaks. You should
still have two cups of salt left — don’t worry, you’ll need them!
Next, put the steaks
into a plastic mixing bowl, and put this bowl in the microwave. Heat
the steaks at maximum setting for fifty (50) minutes. Don’t get impatient
and take the steaks out before. Fifty minutes is perfect to really lock
in that old fashioned "microwaved steak" taste.
Now, when the fifty
minutes are up, you should be looking at a bowl full of partially-cooked
steaks with salt residue all over them. Take the remaining two cups
of salt and pour them over the steaks. Don’t be timid. Pour that salt.
Do it. Do it! Come on, pussy! What’s the matter, never poured salt before?
Never—
Okay, you’ve poured
the salt. Now douse the steaks with the bottle of ketchup. Use the entire
bottle — why not? After all, YOU didn’t pay for it! You
stole it! (See Chapter 2: "Shoplifting the Necessary Ingredients.")
Voila! You’re done,
and in under an hour. Now you’re ready to grab the bowl, a knife and
a fork, and eat a bowl full of partially-cooked salt-encrusted steaks.
Or, if you’re entertaining for a special someone, the recipe works just
as well with 8 partially cooked steaks in 2 bowls. In a pinch, you can
subtitute mustard for the ketchup, sugar for the salt, and luke-warm
pork for the steaks.
~ SOUP A LA STOVE ~
Ingredients:1
can Campbell’s Tomato Soup
1 phone call
1 whore girlfriend
1 rollerblading instructor named Chad
27 vicious insults
1 dialtone
Open a can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup and let simmer on the stove. Don’t
bother wasting a pot—an opened can with the paper label taken off
is Nature’s pot. Stir the soup gently. When soup starts to look "hot,"
stop stirring for a bit.
At this point you’re
going to want to pick up the phone and receive a call from one (1) whore
girlfriend informing you that you’re being dumped for one (1) rollerblading
instructor named Chad.
Your soup should
be coming to a smoky boil right now, so take your time liberally sprinkling
the conversation with 27 vicious insults. These should have been prepared
beforehand and baked in a preheated psyche for approximately three months.
Pay particular attention to her tendency to slur her "t"s
when she gets upset, her horrible taste in throw rugs, and her gigantic
ass.
If you’ve followed
the recipe to the letter, then you should be receiving the dialtone.
Hang up the phone, dump the charred gelatinous mass of tomato paste
onto a plate, and eat with a fork while cursing silently. Soup’s on!