The Non-Cooking Show, Starring The Pony, With Special Guest Mrs. HM

Let the record show that The Pony makes a delicious sandwich condiment sauce. Because I have him as a captive resident in the Mansion, I feel entitled to ask for it on a whim. It's The Pony's fault. He had to force me to try it the first couple times he concocted it for his own meal. He was actually excited to make it for me. I'd hand him a ramekin, and he'd get to work with his saucy alchemy. 

 

Apparently, I wore out my condiment welcome. I sensed this by the heavy sigh, and eye-rolling (which I could see with the eyes in the back of my ex-teacher head) last week at lunch.

 

"Pony, could you make me some sauce for my roast-beef-and-cheddar?"

 

"Yeeesssss. I guess so..."

 

"Hey! If you had taught me HOW to fish, you wouldn't be casting your line several times a week!"

 

"I have tried."

 

"That's when I thought you would always do it for me. Show me now."

 

I handed The Pony a ramekin, and leaned over the cutting block, resting on my elbows and forearms. 

"You start with the garlic aioli, then put in some deli mustard. Then the horseradish sauce. And mayo for filler, to get the amount you want."

PHREETTT! All over my forearms went the aioli.

SPRERTRRPT! Went the horseradish sauce, spraying droplets onto my shirt and chin.

PSFEHTTPPE! Went the mayo, dotting my arms like a Jackson Pollock masterpiece.

 

"You could have shaken them down before squeezing them!"

 

"They're running low."

The Pony snapped shut the horseradish sauce, with a glob on the lid by the slot.

"Ooh! Now I won't want to open that up, knowing what a mess it'll be!"

"I  showed you how to make it, Mother. You WILL be doing it for yourself."

"Give me that! I'm going to add some mayo from the jar to this squeeze bottle. Since it seemed LOW, what with spurting all over me. Get a jar out of the pantry to put in the fridge. It will take most of what's left in this jar. I actually think the jar mayo is a different consistency than the squeeze bottle. Look. The at the clumps down the side of the bottle now, where it won't slide off the spoon. Ooh! I have it all over my hand and wrist. I can't use the big spoon to dig down in the jar. It won't fit in the squeeze bottle top..."

"Mother. Look at this jar of mayo from the pantry. I'm pretty sure it's expired. It's sunken in!"

"Ooh! Throw that away!"

"It's even a different color! Kind of gray! Oh, look! It expired in 2016!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I bought it in 2014, then."

"It's been there since before I went to college!"

"I was commemorating your departure!"

"I know that the jars I buy are at least two years out from the date. So that's probably right. Ugh."

"Come over here and tell me that this texture isn't different!"

"It's all over the side of the bottle!"

"You'd just leave it like that, and screw the lid on."

"Do no project, Mother."

"Come look!"

"No. You might get some on me."

EXACTLY.