T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T- TJ Maxx--You Get the Max for the Minimum, Minimum Price

So I lied about the pre-SuperBowl blogging, thats what happens on SuperBowl Sunday, everything goes crazy Crazy CRAZY. I might have had a superbowl party yesterday, if I had any friends in Buffalo, but we don't so instead Katie and I decided that we would just eat all fucking day long. We were going to have a big breakfast, but because neither of us felt like going out to get eggs we ended up just eating hashbrowns, which, when you eat them alone for breakfast aren't really hashbrowns, they are just french fries. I mean, technically, yes, they are still the same potatoes that they would have been had they not been, but you cannot argue that they don't take on a brand new disposition if you put them alongside some cheesy eggs and toast. Its like ham, you know, or even certain types of sausages, that just take on brand new forms if you put them on a grill and then move them to a bun with mustard and kraut then if they just lay there next to the eggs and stuff. Try this, go to Perkins right now, with one other person. I mean you don't have to bring anyone else, but it might seem odd if you go into Perkins and order two meals as one person. You can bring three people too, since Perkins is used to three people ordering two meals, but the inverse just doesn't stand. Here is the idea: one person should get the open-faced ham and cheese sandwich (for the world's best story that involves an open-faced ham and cheese sandwich, see my entry from when we returned to Buffalo and Katie moved here, its an Andy story and even if you know it its worth a brief recollection) and the other person should get some sort of ham and eggs breakfast.

You will have the same fucking ham alright, the exact same fucking ham, becuase, trust me on this one, no matter how high-falutin Perkins may seem to be when they are running their seafood specials and shit, they are fundamentally not that fancy. I was talking to Sam Perkin this one time and I says to Sam I says I says, "Hey there Sam," I says to him, I says, "Sam" I says, "I think you should use different types of ham for your ham and cheese sandwich than you use for your ham and eggs breakfast," is what I saysed. Sam turns to me and puffing on his pipe he grimaces. "Damn it all, hell and tarnation, jimminy christmas, and dancin elijah tammany hall. I refuse, absolutely-dabsolutely refuse to stock two types of ham. Let them eat chocolate chocolate chip muffins." While I have to agree with his favorable rating on the muffin front ( and can even respect those who prefer the non-chocolate chocolate chip muffins or, on occassion, the banana chocolate chip muffins) I am simply not sure about the multiple hams. Anyway, it should be obvious that the same ham takes on a new flava' when combined with fries.

That was far too much time dedicated to the whole ham situation, at Perkins or elsewhere. I would make a promise that I will not discuss ham for any serious amount of time in the future of this writing, but we actually have a fairly large ham in our freezer and the chance is high that when we eat it I will mention it for more than just a second or two.

After our breakfast taters we took a break for a little while until we had some mid afternoon leftover pizza and stuff. Then SuperBowl time rolls around so we have to go hardcore. First we break out the chips and dip-two types notably, the classic French Onion and a cheesy-beany-little number that Katie whipped up which was quite delicioso. We added to our appetizer menu my favorite hors-d-oeuvre, bacon wrapped water chestnuts. Katie was all hating on these bad mama-jamas until I whipped them out after 5 minutes under the broiler and damn they rox. The crispy-bacon quality of the outside combined with the salty sweet watery crunch of the chestnuts, oh yeah babe. She loved it, couldn't get enough. Pretty much everyone could eat like a billion of these things, I have never been anywhere where all the bacon wrapped water chestnuts available were not consumed. Maybe that is just because I will consume as many as I think I can get away with without being yelled at. I should look into having them at the wedding. Share my bacony-wrappy-watery-chestnutty love with the rest of mi amigos y amigas.

This all came to a climax just after 8 minutes in the third quarter when, after spending an hour in the oven, I removed our sausage-walnut stuffed pork roast from the oven. The recipe we ganked from Emeril Lagasse, but it was really fucking easy and it will definately form the basis of future pork roasts, assuming we get any. We mimosaed during Survivor All-Stars first episode and finished a full magnum of the last of the new-years leftover Asti. It was, all in all, way too much fucking food, even for me, but I think we all need to eat that much once every two-three days.

Peace,

MB-K