Sunday, December 27, 2020

I Don't Know How Guys Walk Around With Those Things

Their stomachs. And their consciences.
 
Let the record show that my sister the ex-mayor's wife brought me some leftovers from her Christmas Eve finger-food party. She brought two kinds of cheese dip, chips, pizza snacks (mini sausage pizzas on rye bread), and some meat-cup thingies. More about them later. Oh, and some Li'l Smokies in BBQ sauce. Yes, technically they aren't finger-food, unless you're a real slob with no sense of decorum.

Anyhoo... we had our own leftovers packed in FRIG II. I gave Sis some deviled eggs, and some hash brown casserole. For supper, Farmer H and I rounded up what we wanted from both households. The Pony said he wasn't hungry for supper. 

I left the Li'l Smokies in their container. I like them, but I know that The Pony is not a fan of ham. He DOES like Li'l Smokies. So that could be his protein when he decided to make a leftover meal. Farmer H also likes Li'l Smokies. They are popular at Sis's house. The container, the size of a round 16-oz sour cream tub, was about half full. 

Saturday around 3:45, I came home to find The Pony just completing the warming of his meal-of-the-day. 

"Oh, Mom. I am having this stuffing, and I've discovered that it's good cold, so I'm not even warming it."

"Yuck. I barely like it warm. You go for it. I won't be having any leftover stuffing."

"I set out my deviled eggs so they could warm up. I like them better at room temperature."

"I see you've taken off the olive slices. I could have left them off for you when I made them. You should have said something. I thought you liked them."

"I DO like them. But not ON the eggs. It's a texture thing. I still eat them. Just separate. Oh, and I warmed up some rolls. And I'm having some Li'l Smokies."

"Dad had some last night. There can't be many left. You might as well have the rest of them."

The Pony put them in a glass bowl for microwaving. They barely covered the bottom. He took his feast to the coffee table, and strapped on the old feedbag. Farmer H came in and sat in his recliner. I said I was going to warm up some lunch. Offered to throw his in the oven with mine.

"IF you want something. I can heat it with mine. Unless you'd rather get it later. It's only 4:00, but I haven't had lunch yet. Do you want any pizza snacks, or those meat cups? I'm having some of the meat cups, so I'll be using the oven anyway. Do you want some ham?"

"No. But I'll have some pizza snacks. And some hash brown potatoes."

"Um. That wasn't my offer. I don't put potatoes in the oven. You can warm those in a bowl in the microwave. I didn't plan on making your supper now. Or did you not have lunch?"

"Oh. I had lunch. A sausage, up at the Storage Units. I might have potatoes later. But I'll have a slice of ham for a ham sandwich if you want to warm it. And some pizza snacks, three or four. And some Li'l Smokies."

"Um. Dad. I took the rest of the Li'l Smokies."

"When? Last night? Or just now?"

"I am literally eating the last of them just now."

"Huh."

"There weren't many left. And you had them last night!"

"Okay. Well. I'll have the sandwich and pizza snacks."

I put them on a foil-lined pan in the oven. Four pizza snacks. Four meat cups. And two slices of ham, because Farmer H had cut them unevenly, with a thick side, and a see-through side. Together, they'd make a normal slice.


There's a meat cup. I'm sure Sis has a better name for them. I think she uses wonton wrappers. It's the size of a muffin cup. Like you stuff the wonton in there and fill it. That mixture is sausage and cheese and maybe something like Worcestershire sauce. I don't know the recipe, but Sis makes a sausage version (which I prefer) and a beef version. The burnt tips are my fault. I left them in the oven a little too long to get them to crisp up again, but they were still tasty.

Anyhoo... I set the pan on top of the stove, and called Farmer H to come make his sandwich and gather his pizza snacks. He didn't want any of the 7 Layer Salad. More for me!

Anyhoo... when I turned back to look at the pan, Farmer H had taken one of my meat cups! When I could have put several on there for HIM. But no. He didn't want any. Until mine were ready! That's what happens when I offer to do him a favor.

That made me smug in the knowledge that I'd refused to warm up hash brown potatoes for him, and dip him some salad. The point of leftovers is that people can fend for themselves! Farmer H treating this like a snack between lunch and supper did not help his case. And I'm GLAD I told The Pony to eat the rest of the Li'l Smokies!

Farmer H needs to learn that he is not actually king of this castle, with first dibs on everything, and servants at his beck and call.

5 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

Yes, PITAs have selective hearing and selective vision. However, their noses are always working. They can sniff out other people's food even when it's miles away.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Food is never so appetizing to HeWho until it is on my plate!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Yeah. The only thing even better than FREE food is free food already warmed up and ready-to-eat on somebody else's plate!

***
Kathy,
The fact that it BELONGS TO SOMEONE ELSE is like a secret sauce, making it more desirable.

River said...

I was writing a side note here to ask what meat cups are, then you told us, so thanks. They don't sound very appetising to me, but I'm getting fussier about trying new things in my old age.
My ex-the-first used to say he didn't want this or that, but when it was on my plate he'd say, that looks good (or smells good) did you make extra? and of course I hadn't made extra so had to share what I had, then next time I'd remind him and say I was making the same and did he want some. No, he'd like something else entirely since I was already in the kitchen.

Hillbilly Mom said...

River,
The sausage version is better than the beef, which needs a dollop of salsa or something spicy to give it taste.

I'm not so sure they really WANT what they're asking for. More like they want CONTROL, in taking our stuff, or seeing if we'll kowtow to their demands.