Not in front of the Lobsters

Other Jen and I, out for coffee Sunday afternoon – discussing the three most important issues in the world: Our own financial woe, how young is too young to kick your children to the curb, and the curious behaviour of our sad rich friends who try to fill the emptiness they feel deep inside by buying ugly art, luxury SUVs, thousand dollar dresses that they’ll never take the tags off let alone wear, Holt Renfrew onesies for their infant children to poop on 3 or 4 times before growing out of them, and cloned designer dogs and what-have-you….

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for retail therapy from time to time but flushing thousands of dollars a day -in a desperate attempt at self-validation and/or gaining the approval of other people with money – turns my stomach and my brain at the same time.

But that’s not what what this post is about.

This post is about the menu of Other Jen’s other friend’s surprise birthday supper.

Other Jen: We’re having a bean dish, cream of wild mushroom soup, lobster spaghetti, crepes and quail stuffed with foie gras, wrapped in bacon.

Me: Wow. Sounds revolting. And unethical. And glutenous. And gross.

Other Jen:
Yeah, pretty much the only thing missing is veal. Or veal cheek. Quail stuffed with foie gras, wrapped in bacon enveloped in a prosciutto made of veal cheek from a specially chosen veal that is only used for one cheek and the rest of the veal gets thrown out.

Me: Right, so you know that your cheek is one of a kind and that nobody else on earth is eating veal with the same DNA as yours.

Other Jen:
Exactly.

Me: You know what might be a nice touch? Drizzling the quail with a sauce made with the fertilized but unborn fetuses of each of the quail you’re eating. Hmm?

Other Jen: I need more coffee. Are you coming with me to the market? I have to buy ingredients for the soup and the Lobster spaghetti.

We bought hazelnut oil and wild mushrooms which was both exciting and inspiring.

Jen bought about 67 gallons of cooking cream while shielding my virgin vegan eyes.

Other Jen I said Don’t Look!

We bought fresh pasta from a little Italian shop and ogled the portobello stuffed pasta pinwheels. I’ll be going back for those…

We went to the bakery for fresh baked bread.

We went to the butcher to buy bacon.

Other Jen: Is this okay for you? Are you okay or…

Me: Hmm? No, I’m… I’m good.

As I pet the glass counter with my mitten, whispering to the veal chuck. There there, it will be over soon.

Other Jen: Oh gawd. Are those entire cow carcasses? I’m so sorry. Ew.. I can’t even..

At which exact point the butcher turns on the radial arm saw and starts dismembering.

Me: You know what? I’m going to head downstairs. I saw some micro bok Choy and…. that’s where I’ll be if you need me.

Other Jen: Don’t leave me here!!

I bought the baby bok Choy, and some new purple potatoes and these tiny yellow squash and just as I reached the cash Jen lunged violently in front of me with her wallet open.

Other Jen:
I need to buy these for you.

Me: Jen it’s fine, I’ve got… (she body checks me out of the way) okay then. Thank you.
Across from the produce stand is a Greek shop. Here! Pita bread! Didn’t you say you were out of Pita bread?

Me: Jen..no.

Other Jen: We’ll have two bags of pita bread please.

Me: Jen, buying my groceries will neither obsolve you of your guilt, nor fill that empty hole in your life.

Other Jen: Sure it will.

Clerk: Do you need a bag?

Other Jen: yes

Me: No (defiantly)

Other Jen: She hates me because I’m wasting plastic, which is why she gets to carry all the groceries in her arms.

And then for the last ingredient on our list… Lobster.

So there was no frozen already-dead lobster still in its’ shell, which wasn’t going to work because apparently you can’t make lobster spaghetti without making the saucy-goodness with the shell and claws, which I understand completely but am still entirely grossed out by. SO!

Jen decides to buy live lobsters. 3 of them.

Other Jen: Do you hate me?

Me: You’re putting them in the trunk right?

Other Jen: Er… the trunk doesn’t exactly open…

Me: Your guys in the back seat aren’t really moving around much. Is that normal?

Other Jen: The fish monger said I should leave the bag open so they can breathe so…

Me: Maybe you should keep their heads out of the pot while you boil them to death too, you know, so they can breathe…

Other Jen: YOU are NOT allowed to talk anymore.

Me: Hey guys! Are you okay back there? Everyone comfortable and getting enought to breathe or…?

Other Jen: Shut up!

Me: Shhh… Jen, not in front of the Lobsters.

Which is pretty much when she left me at the curb in front of my house.

Jennifer June