Monday, January 12, 2015

If Only Each Seed Was A Michelin Star

Tonight we had meatloaf for supper. So what if I cooked it at 5:00 a.m. before I knew school would be canceled. It was ready, by cracky! Ready to heat in the microwave!

Oh! Oh Oh Oh! Mr. Kottair!

Yes! I have a dramatic announcement: I have added a new skill to my kitchen repertoire! Around noon, I poured a box of bread mix in the BreadMan so we could have fresh-baked bread with our meatloaf. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's kitchen might be a Michelin restaurant yet.

The Pony wanted a baked potato on the side. The #1 son preferred a salad. Farmer H voted for the potato. I chose a little bowl of grape tomatoes with Hidden Valley Ranch dip made from a packet of powder and a tub of Save A Lot sour cream. Yep. Michelin stars, here comes Mrs. Hillbilly Mom!

I was down to my next-to-last tomato when it happened. Farmer H was feeding his animals. Not my delicious Michelin meal, of course. But he was outside. The Pony had grabbed his plate and strapped on the feedbag downstairs on his cheap couch. #1 made a quick exit to his room. And I descended to my dark basement lair. We're not much on family meal time. Life is too hectic of late.

So there I was, down to my next-to-last tomato. I poked a single fork tine into the end. Like I had with all the rest. Dipped it in Hidden Valley. Put it in my mouth. Bit down.

AND OUT OF MY MOUTH GUSHED A VERITABLE EXPLOSION OF TOMATO SEEDS!

A spray such as has not been seen since Farmer H squeezed that tomato hornworm to death between his thumb and index finger. Except the seeds came out the other end of Mr. Tomato Hornworm.

Those seeds sprayed like colored sparks from a Fourth-of-July fountain firework.

The problem being...where, exactly, did they go? This is Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's DARK basement lair, after all. So she will be analyzing the spray pattern some other day. A day when she has more time and more give-a-darn. All signs point to the majority of seeds being stuck to the side of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's purple bubba cup that sits right in front of her on the surface of her desk.

How many seeds, really, can a grape tomato hold?

3 comments:

Kathy's Klothesline said...

At least they didn't end up on your computer screen ..... or did they?

Sioux said...

The same thing happened to me on Saturday, in front of a bunch of people. I hope there were at least a few who missed out on witnessing the explosion.

What are the odds that two snarky Missouri women had such a tomato faux pas within days of each other?

I smell a conspiracy...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
Don't think so. I would have noticed them on the lighted screen.

****
Sioux,
We are a threat to humanity. Like my lunchtime companion, Tomato Squirter, who stained the sleeve of my shirt with such fruity faux pas.