Everybody knows one. Some people, like Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, know two. Uh huh. Don't be giving me the stinkeye with your envy-green peepers, though. It's not necessarily a good thing.
I'm talking about those men in the office who are all gung-ho for a potluck dinner. The ones who load up their plates with three of the six servings of Sue Ann Nivens's Veal Prince Orloff, like Mr. Grant at Mary's dinner party. The ones whose plate is so full that they might take a second one. But they have the right, you know, because they brought something to the potluck! Just ask them. Okay. You don't actually need to ask them, because they will tell you about it. Often.
"I signed up for the loaf of bread. They have Wonder Bread for fifty cents at the Hostess Outlet!"
Uh huh. Sir Gabs-a-Lot used to regale us with his culinary exploits often at the Semi Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank. Until his lunch shift was changed. Let the record show that Mrs. HM had nothing to do with that.
This week, I discovered that Farmer H is the new Sir Gabs-a-Lot.
Last weekend, Farmer H went to a family reunion. I have never attended one with him. Both of his parents were deceased when I met him (I had nothing to do with it, I swear), and his brothers were living in other states, and these relatives like Great Aunt Gertie barely know Farmer H. So I didn't think they or I would be missing out on anything by my absence. Some years, one of the boys would go with Farmer H. Under duress. Maybe the #1 Son only went to prevent Farmer H from bragging for another year that, "My boy is pretty smart. He has an IQ of almost 100!"
Anyhoo...for a couple of years, I made a dish for Farmer H to take. Something like deviled eggs, or potato salad. They take a long time to make, you know. And are not exactly suited for an hour's travel, and sitting on a warm picnic table. Let the record show that nobody ever got food poisoning at the family reunion. But if they did, I had nothing to do with it. I swear.
So...Farmer H said that he would pick something up at The Devil's Playground. It might have been one of the years that #1 attended with him. They settled on something simple. A couple of deli sub sandwiches. Of course Farmer H always has a knife with him. It's his bread-and-butter. His factory makes knives. So he bought a couple of foil pans and sliced up two foot-long sandwiches to take to the picnic. Now that's his routine. His loaf of day-old bread, if you will.
I asked Farmer H how his family reunion went, and he said, "Them kids loved that sandwich! They ate it up! There were two girls standing around the table, maybe almost teenagers, and one of them took two pieces of sandwich, and the other one took three! They loved it!"
Yes. Farmer H provided the best sandwich ever known to man. He was the star of his family reunion picnic. To hear him tell it.
I'm living with a celebrity.