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Worst meal at someone's home - Part 1


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The worst meal I can remember was at my house many, many moons ago.  One day, Mom decided to get creative and made something she called 'Reuben Bundles', which consisted of corn beef, sauerkraut and Russian dressing bundled in pastry dough and baked.  It was a drippy, soggy mess.

To this day, Mom has not lived down that culinary snafu.

:smile:

Erica

This sounds like a fantastic idea gone terribly wrong. Might be worth it to try something similar without the soggy mess though.

We used to make these. They were great left over. Drain the sauerkraut well, just a touch of dressing. We used a basic bread dough cut into squares then twisted together on top.

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We were invited, some years ago, to dinner at the home of some new acquaintances, whom we already knew not to be great hosts.  When we arrived, we were told by the Mrs. that they had just returned from an all-afternoon cookout at one of their neighbors' houses, and were stuffed beyond belief, and so dinner was cancelled and she was going to send out for a pizza for us if that was okay.  I told the truth (as I always do) that I really hated pizza, but also that it was perfectly okay with us to stay and chat for a few minutes and then take our leave and go have dinner.  Instead, she begged us to stay and make-do with the pizza, so we did.

Sometime thereafter, a large pie was delivered.  She set it out on the table and called her husband and two kids (7 and 11) to "dinner".  The husband sat at the head of the table and opened the box and took two slices, then passed the box to his right, whereupon the younger child took two slices, and then the older child took two slices, before passing the box around to the side of the table with the two invited guests and their mother.  Of course, the pizza only had 8 slices, and so that left two for the three of us.

At that point, the mother noticed for the first time what had happened (I had seen it in progress) and feigned horror, and looked to see what food she could take back from the kids.  But the youngest had already covered her two slices with a genuine quarter-inch layer of garlic salt (pronoucing it 'inedible' - to her, or anybody else).  The older child had disappeared from the table, but at that moment re-entered the dining room with two soggy pizza crusts on her plate.  The mother asked what happened, and the 11 year-old replied, "Mother, you know I hate tomato sauce!  I took the pizza into the kitchen and washed the sauce off under the sink."  When the mother asked "what happened to the cheese" the kid replied, "that washed away too."

And so Mom divided the two remaining slices of pizza into three portions, and after being served 2/3 of a slice of pizza each as our dinner, we excused ourselves, and went out for something to eat.

Unbelievable! :laugh: Did you ever see these people again? What made you think that they weren't great hosts before you went?

John Sconzo, M.D. aka "docsconz"

"Remember that a very good sardine is always preferable to a not that good lobster."

- Ferran Adria on eGullet 12/16/2004.

Docsconz - Musings on Food and Life

Slow Food Saratoga Region - Co-Founder

Twitter - @docsconz

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We were invited, some years ago, to dinner at the home of some new acquaintances, whom we already knew not to be great hosts.  When we arrived, we were told by the Mrs. that they had just returned from an all-afternoon cookout at one of their neighbors' houses, and were stuffed beyond belief, and so dinner was cancelled and she was going to send out for a pizza for us if that was okay.  I told the truth (as I always do) that I really hated pizza, but also that it was perfectly okay with us to stay and chat for a few minutes and then take our leave and go have dinner.  Instead, she begged us to stay and make-do with the pizza, so we did.

Sometime thereafter, a large pie was delivered.  She set it out on the table and called her husband and two kids (7 and 11) to "dinner".  The husband sat at the head of the table and opened the box and took two slices, then passed the box to his right, whereupon the younger child took two slices, and then the older child took two slices, before passing the box around to the side of the table with the two invited guests and their mother.  Of course, the pizza only had 8 slices, and so that left two for the three of us.

At that point, the mother noticed for the first time what had happened (I had seen it in progress) and feigned horror, and looked to see what food she could take back from the kids.  But the youngest had already covered her two slices with a genuine quarter-inch layer of garlic salt (pronoucing it 'inedible' - to her, or anybody else).  The older child had disappeared from the table, but at that moment re-entered the dining room with two soggy pizza crusts on her plate.  The mother asked what happened, and the 11 year-old replied, "Mother, you know I hate tomato sauce!  I took the pizza into the kitchen and washed the sauce off under the sink."  When the mother asked "what happened to the cheese" the kid replied, "that washed away too."

And so Mom divided the two remaining slices of pizza into three portions, and after being served 2/3 of a slice of pizza each as our dinner, we excused ourselves, and went out for something to eat.

Unbelievable! :laugh: Did you ever see these people again? What made you think that they weren't great hosts before you went?

Are they still alive? :raz::raz::raz:

Bruce Frigard

Quality control Taster, Château D'Eau Winery

"Free time is the engine of ingenuity, creativity and innovation"

111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321

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We were invited, some years ago, to dinner at the home of some new acquaintances, whom we already knew not to be great hosts.  When we arrived, we were told by the Mrs. that they had just returned from an all-afternoon cookout at one of their neighbors' houses, and were stuffed beyond belief, and so dinner was cancelled and she was going to send out for a pizza for us if that was okay.  I told the truth (as I always do) that I really hated pizza, but also that it was perfectly okay with us to stay and chat for a few minutes and then take our leave and go have dinner.  Instead, she begged us to stay and make-do with the pizza, so we did.

Sometime thereafter, a large pie was delivered.  She set it out on the table and called her husband and two kids (7 and 11) to "dinner".  The husband sat at the head of the table and opened the box and took two slices, then passed the box to his right, whereupon the younger child took two slices, and then the older child took two slices, before passing the box around to the side of the table with the two invited guests and their mother.  Of course, the pizza only had 8 slices, and so that left two for the three of us.

At that point, the mother noticed for the first time what had happened (I had seen it in progress) and feigned horror, and looked to see what food she could take back from the kids.  But the youngest had already covered her two slices with a genuine quarter-inch layer of garlic salt (pronoucing it 'inedible' - to her, or anybody else).  The older child had disappeared from the table, but at that moment re-entered the dining room with two soggy pizza crusts on her plate.  The mother asked what happened, and the 11 year-old replied, "Mother, you know I hate tomato sauce!  I took the pizza into the kitchen and washed the sauce off under the sink."  When the mother asked "what happened to the cheese" the kid replied, "that washed away too."

And so Mom divided the two remaining slices of pizza into three portions, and after being served 2/3 of a slice of pizza each as our dinner, we excused ourselves, and went out for something to eat.

Unbelievable! :laugh: Did you ever see these people again? What made you think that they weren't great hosts before you went?

Are they still alive? :raz::raz::raz:

What made me think they weren't great hosts is that the first time they invited us to dinner, they explained that they were "tired" and didn't want to cook, and so they sent out for a little bit of Chinese food. When I told the story to their in-laws that I had gone for dinner, the in-laws said "let us guess - they said they were too tired to cook and sent out for Chinese food. And not enough to go around, either!" When I asked "how did you know?" they replied, "they've never cooked a meal in the 30 years that we've been related to them!" And in the one or two subsequent times that I've had to accept invitations to their house for "dinner" it's been a repeat performance - not nearly enough food, and the same table-passing ritual, where it became clear that the husband and kids know that the rule-of-survival in the house is obvlously "watch out for number one!", and so they'd take, or should I say 'lay claim to' all the food they're going to want when the tray passes, and each time, there's nothing left for the people at the end of the line. And each time, the mother, who certainly wouldn't ever bother to cook a meal for her family, or actually order-in enough food to feed the people she had invited, would feign 'horror' when the last people, always the guests, went hungry.

There's also a story of going out to eat with them at a Chinese restaurant, where by the time the food got to our end of the table, there was one dim-sum dumpling left for two people, the rest of them having sufficiently loaded up their plates with dozens of dumplings as the steamer baskets were passed, without any regard to who still needed food. It's actually a great story, and even funnier than the pizza story, but I've blotted out the details, and all things considered, just as well!

And once, when we arrived for a dinner invite, there was a note tacked to the front door that said "sorry, we got a better invite - see you another time!"

To make a long story short, we were forced for a while to socialize with them because of our friendship with their in-laws. And after the third time they starved us out at a "dinner" invitation, we realized that we needed to eat a substantial meal on the way to one of their "dinners", and so we did.

There was a great diner on the way to their house, and we'd stop there and eat, and that way we just didn't mind when there wasn't enough food. But for a lot of reasons, this being the least of them, we cut our blossoming friendship with these people short.

Are they still alive? Yes, I think they are. But I wouldn't want to be around them in a crisis or an emergency.

Overheard at the Zabar’s prepared food counter in the 1970’s:

Woman (noticing a large bowl of cut fruit): “How much is the fruit salad?”

Counterman: “Three-ninety-eight a pound.”

Woman (incredulous, and loud): “THREE-NINETY EIGHT A POUND ????”

Counterman: “Who’s going to sit and cut fruit all day, lady… YOU?”

Newly updated: my online food photo extravaganza; cook-in/eat-out and photos from the 70's

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To make a long story short, we were forced for a while to socialize with them because of our friendship with their in-laws.  And after the third time they starved us out at a "dinner" invitation, we realized that we needed to eat a substantial meal on the way to one of their "dinners", and so we did. 

There was a great diner on the way to their house, and we'd stop there and eat, and that way we just didn't mind when there wasn't enough food.  But for a lot of reasons, this being the least of them, we cut our blossoming friendship with these people short.

Are they still alive?  Yes, I think they are.  But I wouldn't want to be around them in a crisis or an emergency.

You're a better person than I am, Gunga Din. If I'd been forced to see folks that behaved like that as often as you did, they may well have not stayed alive, because I might have been tempted into killing them. :wacko::laugh:

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What, nobody else has a bad Easter dinner story to tell?

For some reason that I can't figure out, my family perpetuates a myth that my cousin is a great cook. This is what she served us for Easter yesterday:

Turkey -- way, way overcooked, dry and stringy. Easily the worst turkey I've ever had.

Ham -- don't know what kind, but it was super-salty and inedible.

Some kind of potato casserole, baked with onions and cream in it and Kellogg's Corn Flakes on top! This was the best of the meal, though --

Vegetables -- broccoli, corn, carrots, all seemed to have come out of cans. Weirdly colored and strangley flavored -- does broccoli come in cans?!

And the worst of all -- macaroni salad. This seemed to be macaroni, Miracle Whip, dumped in a bowl then sprinkled with paprika. I kept eating it though, because I couldn't beleive it was so bad!! :laugh: I just can't figure out when anyone would serve it.

But they're all good people and we had a good time. It was too late to cook by the time we got home, so I just heated up a Trader Joe's vegetable pizza and was a lot happier, food-wise, last night. :rolleyes:

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It seems like the thread has recently added another type of bad meal. If the previous catagories were bad meals by the clueless, the addled (by time or, uh, chemistry), the overconfident, the untried, the thrifty, the malicious..............then the new catagory would be, "Meals By Those Not Yet Housebroken". Consider my current re-reading of The Odysssey: Even 3,000 years ago, those who were oblivious to the needs of guests were worse than barbarians: They were monsters.

I'm a canning clean freak because there's no sorry large enough to cover the, "Oops! I gave you botulism" regrets.

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I love this thread, pure comedy. I also sudder to think, since I cook often for firends and family, that perchance there may be a story where either I or my meals are a topic. I hope not. I try hard to please.

At least I know no one will go away hungry, assuming the food to them is edible, I always make more than I need.

**************************************************

Ah, it's been way too long since I did a butt. - Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"

--------------------

One summers evening drunk to hell, I sat there nearly lifeless…Warren

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A friend of mine and I had dinner at his Aunt & Uncle's house in Circleville, Kansas.

She made "lasagna". It was made with cottage cheese rather than ricotta, which she had never heard of. Layers of lasagna noodles, cottage cheese and Hunt's "Eye-talian" sauce.

I was, needless to say, "too full" for seconds, and my Italian Step-Father back in New York was aghast when I described this to him.

Edited by DeVeaux (log)

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."

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Does ambience (lack of) or welcome (hardly any) count? Perhaps this would be "Worst TIME you ever had in someone's home."

Several years ago, a man who worked with my husband in a government office still owned his home here, though his family lived in DC, where he worked for most of the year. His contract with the people who rented his house here entitled him to a room there whenever he was in town. Being a bachelor of sorts, he was invited to our home to dinner countless times over a couple of years; he ate and drank and thoroughly enjoyed all his meals here, and was certainly a complimentary guest.

Then, perhaps feeling the one-sidedness of the situation, he invited us to his home for dinner one Summer evening. Our college-age daughter was here at the time, so he included her in the invitation. We arrived at the appointed time, to be greeted by our "host" and the male occupant of the home---a burly, hairy man in a vest-no-shirt ensemble with enough bling to make glad the heart of Mr. T.

We sat on the patio and were entertained by Blingman with tales of his jewelry purchases, his Cadillac shopping and how much money he had flung at the cable people to obtain the upcoming Tyson fight. Finally a meek young woman came out with seven small children in tow. They surrounded us, talking and playing; our daughter engaged them in several games and rhymes, while the woman fired up the grill, then started cooking a platter of hamburger patties. Neither of the "men of the house" made any effort to assist her, even when she had to change the gas tank.

My husband jumped up to help, got her all squared away, and she called the children and they all disappeared inside. I had asked if I could do anything to help; she invited me into the kitchen, and handed me a knife, an onion and two tomatoes to slice. While I was slicing, she mentioned that only the oldest child was hers, the rest were her day-care group. Since most of their mothers were strippers at a bar near their house, she had children for twenty-four hours a day, with pickups at all hours of the night. She was so tired, and so obviously did NOT want us there, I could not imagine what we should do to alleviate her stress---take our leave and thus give her insult as well as the injury our "friend" had inflicted on her?

My heart just broke for that mousy creature, living with that loud, greedy braggart who used her hard-earned money to buy all that useless trappery. When I finished my slicing chores, she said to just go on back out and she'd call us when it was ready. She came back out to retrieve the burgers and went back into the house.

After about a fifteen minute interval, she sent the oldest child out to say, "She says you can come eat if you want to." We five trooped into the kitchen; the table had one empty space amongst all the children eating their dinner. The gracious host took that one. The woman took her plate to the only clear counter space; there were four buns left, plus four patties, three tomato slices, and no onion. A jar of mayonnaise with a handle-smeared knife protruding was the only condiment. Since our plates were the strength and consistency of notepaper, we scooched all the way into the next room to find a place to put them down.

First time we ever ate dinner off a washing machine.

Edited by racheld (log)
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There was a great diner on the way to their house, and we'd stop there and eat, and that way we just didn't mind when there wasn't enough food.  But for a lot of reasons, this being the least of them, we cut our blossoming friendship with these people short.

I don't blame you... I simply couldn't socialize with people like that. I really don't mind any well-meant mistakes no matter how bad but this kind of behavior just indicates an arrogant ugliness that I would need to put myself as far away from as possible. Maybe it's my arab nature poking out here but I just can't see humor in it -- I'm just completely appalled! :shock:

I should add -- I've been served some truly weird things in my life: whole roast head of a goat, roast chicken with head and feet intact, iraqi-style boiled tripe... not to mention the sort of mistakes of overreaching by inexperienced hosts, the dry overdone meat, the crunchy underdone vegetables, etc etc but they were all served with such a generosity of spirit I simply cannot include them as part of this thread. Your story really wins the prize.

Edited by Behemoth (log)
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I consider myself most fortunate to have not experienced anything remotely close to the dinner party horrors described in this thread. I'm only 25 though, so I'm sure it's simply a matter of time...

The worst meal I have ever had occasion to eat occurred during a 10th grade camping expedition. As a brief aside, this was the single worst outdoors experience I have ever had in my entire short life, and, 9 years after the fact, I am still loathe to even look at a a canoe or a tent.

I digress. The students in our class were paired up for the trip, with each pair manning their own canoe, sleeping in their own tent, and providing their own meal. I partnered up with my good friend Karen, who happened to be a vegetarian. I packed our beverages for the trip, she handled the food.

I will save myself several hours of typing and omit the wilderness horrors we encountered on our way to the campsite, suffice to say that by the time the dinner hour rolled around, I was looking forward to whatever it was that Karen had concealed under the foil wrapped containers she was carrying.

Our teacher chaperone set up a small portable propane barbecue on a nearby boulder, and supported the setup with a large piece of plywood that was lying around the campground. Being that the BBQ was so small, only one pair's meal could be cooked at a time. The teacher set the BBQ alight, loaded the first meal on, and turned her attention back to the rambunctious teenageers.

About 5 minutes into the cooking process, one of the students pointed in the direction of the BBQ and asked "Should it be on fire like that?". Apparently Teach had forgotten to set the BBQ on its little BBQ legs and had instead set it directly on the plywood. The large vent hole in the bottom provided direct access to the plywood, and the BBQ and plywood sheet were now alight. Given that said BBQ was attached to a propane cylinder, Teach though it prudent that the BBQ should be taken as far away from the students as possible.

All 20 students were treated to the sight of our chaperone, who upon recollection really can't have been much older than 25 or so, sporting oven mitts and clutching a flaming BBQ, all the while shreiking "GET AWAY FROM THE FLAMES! GET AWAY FROM THE FLAMES!". She ran down the beach, and with the strength of an Olympic discus thower, she hurled the flaming grill into the ocean.

Needless to say, those poor students lost their dinner and the rest of us had to dine on uncooked fare. I ate what Karen had brought - veggie weiners and a mix of cauliflower, broccoli and carrot chunks with Italian dressing - and retired to our tent to experience the worst indigestion I have ever had the misfortune to sit through.

I have not gone camping since then, but my fear of veggie cuisine and raw vegeatbles has subsided to the point where I can function normally. I am still petirifed of lighting BBQs, however.

Jenn

"She's not that kind of a girl, Booger!"

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My college roommate used to make "mushroom supreme," which consisted of the following:

- Dump a can of mushrooms into an ovenproof dish

- Add a can of (undiluted) cream of mushroom soup

- Bake.

- Eat with toast.

BLEEH!!! (And why bake it? Baking doesn't add anything to an atrocity like that!)

Here's his version of chili:

- Fry a pound of ground beef.

- Dump in a can of cream of tomato soup.

- Throw in a can of kidney beans.

- Sprinkle with a very, very small amount of chili powder.

Talk about bland! Not downright disgusting, but so damn "trailer park." Compare that to this, a shameless plug for my own chili:

http://blork.typepad.com/blorkblog/2005/02...chili_the_.html

The mushroom supreme sounds like it's a cousin of the equally revolting poutine. It even rhymes.

Hate to be mean but your recipe isn't much better for a chili. It's more of a beef stew. Call it that and no one would make a comment. The "chili" is a few Jalapenos and that's it for the chiles? The chile powder (i.e. 1% chile, 99% gunk) is "optional".

You might want to discover dried chiles.

ps

Orthograpic note:

the dish is chili and the main ingredients are fruits called chiles.

Dum vivimus, vivamus!

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Orthograpic note:

the dish is chili and the main ingredients are fruits called chiles.

<off-topic minirant>

While you're right that usage is changing, especially among a vocal group of Southwest US food writers and their adherents, and while I admit that the earlier post is the first time I've seen the dish spelled chile, your categoric claim that the "fruits are called chiles" is not only prescriptive, it's patently wrong. "Calling" the fruits chilis or chilies is perfectly acceptable US English. For example, see the 11th edition of Merrriam Webster's, published in 2003, where chili is the headword and chile an alternate spelling. And let's not forget the rest of the English-speaking world, eh? The standard Canadian spelling for the fruit is chili, whereas chilli is preferred in India and, if I am not mistaken, the UK, Australia and New Zealand.

Have been meaning to start a thread on the spelling of culinary terms. Maybe this will push me to do it.

</off-topic minirant>

Edited by carswell (log)
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Here's his version of chili:

- Fry a pound of ground beef.

- Dump in a can of cream of tomato soup.

- Throw in a can of kidney beans.

- Sprinkle with a very, very small amount of chili powder.

This reminded me of a college roommate I had who made an even simpler chili.

-Fry a pound of ground beef.

-Dump in a copious amount of ketchup.

-Stir.

Dinner!

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And once, when we arrived for a dinner invite, there was a note tacked to the front door that said "sorry, we got a better invite - see you another time!"

that is hilarious.

isn't it amazing how people find each other? the in-laws spawned one of those two, but seemed normal enough.

from overheard in new york:

Kid #1: Paper beats rock. BAM! Your rock is blowed up!

Kid #2: "Bam" doesn't blow up, "bam" makes it spicy. Now I got a SPICY ROCK! You can't defeat that!

--6 Train

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My wife and I were served 6 year old roast once by a "friend" who always had us over to cook "real gourmet food."

He let us know about half way through - his meal- we stopped eating after his announcement. He and his wife kept eating....

Edited by handmc (log)

**************************************************

Ah, it's been way too long since I did a butt. - Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"

--------------------

One summers evening drunk to hell, I sat there nearly lifeless…Warren

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Markk -

wow, those people are fascinating. My biggest flaw in having people over for dinner is cooking way too much, in fact, my roomate has expressly forbidden me from doing it lately because he fears the leftover and subsequent dish buildup and always follows...

He don't mix meat and dairy,

He don't eat humble pie,

So sing a miserere

And hang the bastard high!

- Richard Wilbur and John LaTouche from Candide

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Bless His heart! My ex.....

You have to realize that I am a professional chef...and early on he was trying so hard to impress me...oh, my!

Spam studded with little cloves and glazed with mustard and brown sugar, canned peas and iceburg lettuce with bottled 1000 Island!

My nightmare come true! All I can say is bless his heart, where ever he is!

But you know, I think I have one worse. A co-worker (before I was a chef) told me she had an old family recipe for the best vegetable chowder in the world. So after much anticipation I went home with her for lunch one day to a "wonderful" bowl of Carnation Evaporated Milk with Frozen mixed vegetables! Ugh, in any language!

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My college roommate used to make "mushroom supreme," which consisted of the following:

- Dump a can of mushrooms into an ovenproof dish

- Add a can of (undiluted) cream of mushroom soup

- Bake.

- Eat with toast.

BLEEH!!! (And why bake it? Baking doesn't add anything to an atrocity like that!)

Here's his version of chili:

- Fry a pound of ground beef.

- Dump in a can of cream of tomato soup.

- Throw in a can of kidney beans.

- Sprinkle with a very, very small amount of chili powder.

Talk about bland! Not downright disgusting, but so damn "trailer park." Compare that to this, a shameless plug for my own chili:

http://blork.typepad.com/blorkblog/2005/02...chili_the_.html

The mushroom supreme sounds like it's a cousin of the equally revolting poutine. It even rhymes.

Hate to be mean but your recipe isn't much better for a chili. It's more of a beef stew. Call it that and no one would make a comment. The "chili" is a few Jalapenos and that's it for the chiles? The chile powder (i.e. 1% chile, 99% gunk) is "optional".

You might want to discover dried chiles.

ps

Orthograpic note:

the dish is chili and the main ingredients are fruits called chiles.

This is not only mean, but catty.

The recipe uses 8 jalepenos and a quantity of chili powder for 1.5 lb beef chunks, carefully chopped and braised. I doubt if the powder is 99% gunk. Most spice companies would make sure they provided what the label says: chili peppers, ground up, with some seasoning.

I saw a recipe like this, a prize winner, in Esquire, ca. 1969. I'm glad to be re-acquainted with it. The Esq. recipe had poblano, serrano, jalepeno and other dried chilies, but chili powder and beer were also included.

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Markk -

wow, those people are fascinating.

I'm glad so many people are enjoying these tales. As I've mentioned, this was a relationship that was forced on me, although I did eventually end it. But in the meantime, I've remembered the "Chinese Restaurant" story...

After I first got to know them, I did them a fairly large favor - they didn't ask for it, but it was something that I knew they could use, and I volunteered, and did it because that's what life is about - if you have something to share, and one of your friends can benefit from it, you share. So I did something nice for them, and it was a fairly 'above and beyond the call of duty' thing, but I was happy to offer, and happy to do it, and had no ulterior motive or reward in mind.

Still, to thank me, they announced that they were taking me out to dinner. We went to a fairly expensive Chinese restaurant that they liked. It was just me (as it was a night that my other half was out of town on business). This restaurant had a few specialty items, one of which was a "Dim Sum" appetizer that consisted of 3-each of 3 different dumplings (total=9 pieces).

They ordered one of those to start for the 5 of us. And let me say at this point in the tale that they had mentioned a few times before the dinner started that I was their guest, as they were treating, so I didn't feel it was my place to say anything as they ordered.

They asked the kids what they wanted, and the kids chose a noodle dish (which they immediately halved and served themselves upon its arrival, naturally). Then the Mrs. ordered a main course for the adults, and asked the husband if he wanted another dish. He asked us if we liked 'curry'. The wife replied "honey, you ask me that every time, and you know I detest curry", and I replied that I dislike curry and don't eat it either. So the husband replied "great, more for me!" and ordered a curry dish as well, for himself, of course.

Anyway, back to the tale. The Dim-Sum appetizer arrived in a gigantic and festive steamer basket, and inside were three groups of three-dumplings each. The husband took the basket, and of course took one-each of the dumplings. Then the basket passed to the youngest child (6 or 7 at the time) who took one each, and then to the older child (10 or 11) who took one of each. Of course, for those of you who are counting cards, that's all nine dumplings! And there was "mom" and me, the guest of honor, left. So once again mom feigned horror (where was she ten minutes earlier when they ordered the dish?) and screamed at the kids to "put some back", so each one returned one dumpling. When the two dumplings came our way, mom asked me "you take one and I'll take one?".

Then the "main" dishes arrived. The kids had theirs, and of course, some of what mom had ordered for the table. Dad had his curry dish all to himself, and you know it, some of what mom had ordered for the table. And I, stuffed from my one dumpling, had one-fifth of the main dish, this being of course the "thank you" dinner that I was taken out to.

Well, I'm glad you're enjoying these tales. I got a million of them.

Overheard at the Zabar’s prepared food counter in the 1970’s:

Woman (noticing a large bowl of cut fruit): “How much is the fruit salad?”

Counterman: “Three-ninety-eight a pound.”

Woman (incredulous, and loud): “THREE-NINETY EIGHT A POUND ????”

Counterman: “Who’s going to sit and cut fruit all day, lady… YOU?”

Newly updated: my online food photo extravaganza; cook-in/eat-out and photos from the 70's

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I think at that point I would have cut things off in that relationship.

You're a much better person than I.  :huh:  :wink:

Soba

I would have cut some other things off. Where do you find these people? Did not someone kill them for you? :raz::raz::raz:

Bruce Frigard

Quality control Taster, Château D'Eau Winery

"Free time is the engine of ingenuity, creativity and innovation"

111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321

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My wife and I were served 6 year old roast once by a "friend" who always had us over to cook "real gourmet food."

6 year old roast

??!! :blink:

how do you even do that?

been in the freezer for 6 years?

or roasted for 6 years?

or....

a roasted a 6 year old (insert name of beast here)?

milagai

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Worst meals-

I was 15 and it was at an Indian friends house, I sleptover. I like Indian food by the way. Dinner was great. But breakfast was all together different. She made these spiced dough fritters in a vat of what looked and smelled like bad oil to me. I'm not much of a fried food eater and I never make them at home because I have an aversion to the smell of fried food in the house. (I'll have to makes some chick pea fries for research though). So for me first thing in the morning, dough fried in bad oil served with a very tart and spiced yogurt was just too much. The fritters were really oily, oily with the bad oil. Did I mention that bad oil?

Dinner with a couple that we were starting to become friends with, but they were just too damn cheap and annoying in other ways. We arrive and we can't smell anything cooking, no aroma of food whatsoever. They have some nuts, cheeses and dips out with 3-4 crackers. We finish the crackers, they put out a few more but never more than 4. Same thing with the nuts, only a few are put out at a time. We notice 1 bottle of wine, of course we brought one ourselves, so that makes 2 for the entire evening. The woman starts on the salad. I thought she was making one portion at a time. Wrong, it's for everybody. We sit down to eat (I'm still wondering when she'll start cooking the main course). Divided amongst 4 adults individual salad portions come out to about 1/4 cup. She brings out the entree, it's room temperature chicken breast with a bland chili sauce and not enough salt. The breasts are dry, bone dry. The portion sizes are 1/2 a breast. Dessert is a single slice of cake. Not a single slice for each of us, a single slice for all of us. We left starving and thirsty. The weird thing is this woman bragged about her cooking.

Dinner at a Vietnamese friend's house. I like Vietnamese food by the way. But this woman just loved her fish sauce. She used copious amounts of it in this noodle dish. Just to give you an idea of my threshhold for fermented fish stuff I like fermented cuttlefish and salted shrimp. We could smell it as soon as we walked in. It permeated the entire evening. Eating this noodle dish was an act of politeness that I will never again duplicate.

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